Time is like water, slowly slipping through the fingers. The east wind is warm, the days are long, and the mountains and rivers are stained with ink. The ups and downs are lighter, and the red makeup is thicker. Many flowers are gradually waiting to bloom.
Waiting for a season of flowering, waiting for spring dreams to wake up, and making a short stay on the forehead of falling rain.
longing for a spring rain, longing for the end of winter and the coming of spring, a pot of warm tea , carrying mist and rain drifting outside the window.
tells a story and remembers an old friend. Every fragment of life has a trace of lingering sadness.
It seems that all the thoughts come from the words. Green silk hair passes over the temples, and dusk snow falls overnight. Pink peaches and green willows are not spring. When you step into the bamboo house, the garden is full of spring.
The past that I think of seems to start from Tang Dynasty . All my thoughts are like moonlight reflecting on water, dipped in cold water.
Some people say that when it rains, you are the most lonely. You want to be alone in front of the window and tell the sadness of the distance.
There are free and unrestrained feelings in life, and there is also a touch of sadness. The flowers are blooming in spring, and the snow is still there. A picture of the country, half of it is sunny, carefree and joyless, elegant and joyful.
Thinking of spring, looking forward to spring, dreaming of spring, an obsession, wishing that the time will be warm and the garden will be full of spring.
One flower and one world, one spring and one fat and thin. I hope the three winters will not be cold and the flowers will be warm in spring.
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-