The years hide snow, the time is clear, and the season when you write is in the last line, and the plain and light are painted. A line of lovesickness, a line of obsession, whose yearning is covered with snow and romance, and whose plum blossoms are filled with snow. A faint line of poetry, a faint thought, a splash of emotional intelligence, splashing the ground of lovesickness like soup.
It has not snowed in the winter, three thousand cold, layers of west wind passes through the corridor, three thousand prosperous dreams go away, and a poem is desolate. The sunset is setting, the smoke of cooking is long, the song "Farewell" is hurt by Yangguan, and every word falls on the string.
light shadows stretch out lovesickness, time has made the past thin, sitting alone in the passing years, watching the seasons reincarnation, and the snow falls white. New lyrics and old songs are filled in every year. Every night, the past is desolate, and a few lines of poetry shake the ground melancholy.
A cup of tea, half a moon of lovesickness, walking the path you have walked is considered a reunion, and tasting the wine you often drink is considered a gathering. One person shines on the moon, two people are happy, their lovesickness is in the bones, the shadow is messy, full of thoughts, soft and sad.
On the road of the world, every inch of time is lonely and warm, and every past is accompanied by wine at dusk. Time together is a glass of wine, refreshing and intoxicating, and joyful in the cold.
Every time I turn around, I fall into the white world, and every time I lower my eyebrows, I am in awe of time. Is it that spring has entered winter by mistake, or is it that winter misses spring? It is impossible to distinguish the rhythm of poetry and the eyebrows of the lamp.
A journey of wind, a journey of snow, a lonely thought, a update of the moon. The fragmented past, like the water's time, houses unforgettable memories in life. The young man walks on the snow, the snow is romantic, but now he walks on the snow, the snow is sad.
Every period of time is an indelible memory, sprinkling the journey of life, brewing spring flowers and autumn moons.
Every passing year has traces of love, pushing the window and singing, the path is fragrant.
Every period of time, there is lovesickness and sorrow, the wind and moon are cold, and tears walk two lines.
The winter is deep, the snow is cool, the rest of my life, I look at it, no matter how shallow my mind is, it is as shallow as the moon shines as before, and no matter how thick the snow falls, it is as thick as the spring rain. There is no need to deliberately make love as deep as the sea, nor do you have to deliberately make love break Wushan. With a shallow mood, live an ordinary life. When a winter snow covers the passing years, all memories will fall into the white world.
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