The sound of the flute starts, the shadow of the bamboo shakes, the human voice is silent, the steps are silent, the breeze blows, and May, with its hair scratching its face, is gradually drifting away.
Rain falls in the south of the Yangtze River, and I always feel that it is the rhyme of poetry. In the ticking, the joys and sorrows may fade away, and the separation and reunion should be like wine that has been open for a long time.
Time is shallow, time is speechless. The breeze in May blew the splendor of June. Summer came inadvertently. Facing the vigorous sunshine, awakening the sleeping childlike innocence, the warmest days in life began.
Goodbye May, June, Hello!
June: Time is like Zen, clear and happy
Clear and shallow years, silent vicissitudes, flowers are in the near future, green, green waves thousands of miles away, vast smoke.
Things in the world are like books, old words and new sorrows, drunkenness of old windows, the world is already deserted, the long wind enters the pine tree, and the moon is filled with the courtyard.
Time is like tea, with thick and thinness, cold and cold, joy and sorrow, separation and reunion, the warmth of the spring breeze passing by, and the elegance of the autumn water whisk.
Time is like a book, with the ordinary and ordinary years of fireworks, poetry and the elegance of the distance, the warmth of the world, and the scattered sparseness of Bodhi.
Time is like Zen, there are the passing years of virtuality and reality, there are the leisure and silence of light clouds and light winds, there are the yesterday of wind and moon, and there are the time of flowing water and smoke.
Light smoke is like silk, the breeze lies in the wild, the lush greenness spreads through the stone steps in front of the steps, through a curtain of idle windows, over the long water bank, and over the long time.
Time is like Zen, clear and joyful, in the quiet time, June should have a memory of green and indians.
Pick up life and fall into dreams, let the years pass like water, watch the wind blow its leaves, listen to the grass bear its seeds, listen to the butterflies flying through the flower fields, listen to the moonlight falling in front of the mountains.
In June, there are ten miles of green waves, white rain jumps into the boat, lotus wind brings fragrance, bamboo dew drops, courtyard deep, and fragrance wind enters the strings.
June: Be the best self and give the best look to life
Memories are like tombs, as thin as plain, on both sides of the years, on one side is the yellowed yesterday, and on the other side is the bright today.
In the past that I stayed there, there are confusing memories and moving stories in the stories over the years.
While the dust of the passing years, the years of the world always look heartbreaking.
No matter how far time goes, it will always leave traces, the promises passing by on the stone bridge, the youth that waves to farewell on the platform, the speechless crying in the long night, the silent past of dusk and sunset.
June is the richest season, with the most saturated green, the coolest rain, the wildest wind, and the best people.
A glass of light wine can comfort the dust of half a lifetime; a curtain of green can give a pillow a cool pillow.
In the best way to life, there should be a pool of clear green with branches slanted; there should be a cup of clear tea, the fragrance of tea lingers; there should be a book of clear words , with faint affection.
June: May time turn into the vast ocean, may you and me return to the first meeting
The years are long, the seasons are safe, all the loneliness and wandering, all the desolation and helplessness of the past are just regarded as an unfinished poem, and the ink color fades in time.
May time turn into the vast ocean, may you and I return to your first meeting, I raise my eyebrows, you are calm and calm, without the dust of years, without the panic of the dusk, without the fatigue of years, and without the desolation of music and singing down the stairs.
Playing the piano and asking the breeze, cooking tea to comfort life, perhaps the best peace in the world is to return to your first meeting, to you, to the world, and to the years.
In June, there is the warmest sunshine, the most gorgeous rhetoric, the brightest smile, and the most amazing moment.
May you be treated gently by this world, even if life is always bullied by meanness and desolation.
I hope you love this world well, even if the years pass by will always treat each other with vicissitudes of life.
May you love yourself well, even if the years urge each other, the wind and rain will be pressed against each other.
May you have no ups and no joys and sorrows for the rest of your life
