The long journey of life, the faint bits and pieces of light between the clothes pull up a little dust. Pen? Interesting? Pavilion wWw. ｂiquge。 infoLooking for you, how many reincarnations? How many days and months are you missing? The image frozen in the red dust of Zimo will never disappear and fade. Intoxicated, in the first quarter of the moon and the second quarter of the que; I lost myself before I knew it.

Everything is still as clear as yesterday. I am the birch tree from the ancient forest, and I only live here for the love that has not been lost for thousands of years. A wave of sorrow, in a long pavilion of plain clothes, flowing with lovesickness and love. The mottled years are gone, drunk with the familiar eye waves of Jun's previous life; poured out the love of the past and present lives, drunk in every gentle call of the king.

Light on the desk, worried into the pen and ink. Follow the earthly world scattered with ink, follow the dream. Thousands of times to look back at the lingering generations, only pay pen and ink to know each other. Thousands of miles apart, it is difficult to hold the hand-twisted red paper fish and geese. Just let the storm hit me like this, trying to drive away the feeling of powerlessness in the face of fate.

The pebbles were polished smooth and smooth by the flowing water, but its heart was still dreaming of being full of edges and corners. The rain imprints the night forever, making what was once forever. The joy and sorrow derived from this also added a little desolation, and the emotion of the ink painting was a gaze that I should not have. There is no pen that can vividly copy my sorrow. Even if a hundred flowers bloom, in my eyes, it is not as good as your health and beauty.

Suddenly looking back, it was like a world away. The Night Rain Elves, picking up the looming eternal pain. If there was no trick of fate, the wish made by the Buddha would not be so tragic. None of us is wrong, my dear, right? The emptiness of thousands of years has not diluted the memories in the depths of the soul. Amber in dreams makes love more beautiful, and the passage of time can only add to it......

When the migratory bird flies over the sea, the shell waits quietly on the beach for its return. Knowing and cherishing each other, turning the heart butterfly of the previous life into a breeze in this life, waiting for every day when there is a king. In this way, let me read the twilight of the dynasty and the twilight, and embed this memory in the annual ring of my life.

The night is silent, and the shadow is lonely against the green light. The wind is bleak, the rain is bleak, and the sycamore is lingering. The morning dawn is now, and the sky is blue. More eye-catching, spring swallow clouds. Murmuring, peach and plum smiled, and the condensation was more crystalline. Butterflies dance, chase and play, and sniff red ying. What did you wish? When the wind is exhausted, it will drift away with the water. On the shore of the Moon Lake, the flowing water is bent, and the plain clothes are hard to help but be light. Yun Hongchen, infatuated with the first promise. The red paper exhibition, the blue bird competes. Three points of acacia, one point of affection, and two points of wine for vicissitudes. is holding the pen, the gimbal ink dyeing, where is the bird frightened? Suddenly, why be sad, the concubine's heart is the king's heart......

A song of sheng looks at the end of the prodigal son, rides a horse and raises a whip, but the city is prosperous, the cherry blossoms are cold and the wind and rain fall, the wooden swing, and the past is thin. Sorrowful and dreamy of the wilderness of the earthly world, Qingqiu Guizi, smelling the fragrance of the ten-mile flower city, the cherry blossoms in the dream are bleak under the wind and thin snow stones, looking at the end of the world, and passing the mirror lake of thousands of sails.

At the beginning of spring, the light rain falls on the flowers, the fingertips of the ridges on the field are Mo, the single wandering, who is the ink of the world, I am looking for it alone, the wooden plank stone bridge, the smoke and rain in the south of the Yangtze River, the bank of the Liuxi River, the bamboo trees meander, the pavilion in the front hall, the southern town, the dream I entangled. Chang'an boy in the north of the city, a series of autumn wind plain yarn, single riverside, who is the bright moon of the world, Chanjuan past, holding hands and embracing each other all his life, dew the tip of the grass, tearful eyes, autumn wind and moon, clear wind and stone rocks, wild and barbaric, northern scenery, frozen thousands of dust.

At the end of summer, the light boat sings late, the canopy bell is sad, the old crow tree, who is the Xiaoxiang passerby, the twilight snow of a thousand mountains, the railing of the Hanhai Sea, the lava mountain pass, the trees are bending, the stone rock is circling, the cherry blossom mountain, the rain is falling, the grass is grand, and the entangled rain is hanging. The lanterns on both sides of the city are desolate, the rain is drenched, the twilight is yellow, the parrot Zhouyue, the south pavilion is Huaixin, the day is on the light, the twilight is cold, and the book makeup is idle at the end of summer.

Flowing years of wooden bed, the tide of the early moon, the light of the faint rhyme, looking at the end of the world lonely lamp, once the autumn grass is strange, the field buckles the car cattle, the wheat wood on the bridge, the street trees are green, the grass and trees are yellow, the thin year, looking at the end of the world, the cherry blossoms are falling, who is in the rainy season is sad and shallow, in order to meet the passing year, together is the fate after all.

Autumn weeds withered, corn and wheat orange yellow, autumn vegetables and white ducks, who let whose sorrow knots, a lifetime of boats and boats, under the Chang'an stone, the autumn waves are surging, the river tide rises, plain clothes, in the light wind, the sea ripples, but look at the green mountains and green daisies. Far on the cold mountain stone path, maple forest car forest, frost red February, empty mountain heart rain, cherry blossoms lonely, wood trees withered, the weather is late autumn, fishing fire shallow and sad sleep.

At the end of winter, the slanting sun is delicate, the frost and snow on the streets are sideways, the moon is falling and crying, who makes who is the heart of the collection, the twilight weeds disappear, looking at the end of the world, the cherry blossoms are covered with frost, the breeze is sorrowful, the bright moon is desolate, the old trees in the lonely city, the moonlight is faint, and the sunset at night throws snow. The night moon is entangled in dreams, the pine and cypress moss, the weeds are gone, the world is cold, the world is cold, the end of the world, the cherry blossoms and rain fall, and the life is lingering.

Purple smoke pass, beacon fire poisons the Central Plains of Wuyue, holding a sword and halberd to saddle the saddle and fight the end of the world; On the battlefield, the armor withered and the soldiers were cold, and the yellow sand rattan leather whip was sealed.

Yunling Qinhai, waves and rocks, cypress cliffs, ancient pine cantilevers, mountain steamer Qingdai; The lonely peak flows, the waterfall repeats the sound, the finch cries, the cliff is hungry, and the hundred geese and trees are grandiose; Chulin Shifeng, a white element, rain and fog, high and low chords.

Clear dew and dangerous trees, the curtain line of the ancient town in the south of the Yangtze River, the small bridge and flowing water, the ancient capital of the pengchuan, between the bluestone slabs, the vines and seedlings are mixed; night flies hang their feet, sleeping in the desert lonely smoke inn; The waves of the dunes, the howling wind, the yellow sand grains, the corpses of withered yellow mole ants; Under the moon, the mirror is parked, the green lake is traveled, the canopy passenger boat, the stone creek is traveled, a thin smoke, and the shallow mountains and rivers are falling in the sand.

The end of the sword world, a paper seal, the moon falls and the frost and snow, the cicada bird drums its wings, the Xiaoshan bone stands, the volley swordsman, the cocoon stands alone, the stone cliff of Tongshan, the trees are hoarse, the rivers and lakes are alarmist, the sea is flowing and the spring is in the sea, the old country is on the paper, the rivers and mountains are seven unique, the world is crisscrossed, the pines and cypresses of the South Mountain, the branches are miscellaneous, the North River Tinglan, the fragrance is fragrant, the ancient town of the south of the Yangtze River, the white wall and green tiles, the wild goose purple outside the plug, and the old sand of the Luo Desert.

The moon and the lotus move, the fish under the light boat, the pond wind lotus, the haggard and lost Hunan, the shrimp and crab glacier, the iron horse into a dream, the bright moon and the mountains, the fast curtain night secluded forest; The breeze is bare, the weeping grass is weeping, the embroidered veins and leaves, the birds and birds are idle, the branches are climbing, the dew is unbalanced, the poems are leaning on the column, and the dreams of the fog and rain are counted.

Pillow waiting, inkstone and ice are strong, bronze armor, hook halberd knife hammer, yellow sand Hansai, Hu Yan flying, riding horses on the field, stained with the blood of strong men; Xiaoshan Spear Stone, Youling Inn, Whipping Wilderness, Full of Snow and Frost, Sword World, Paper Blocking, Mass Burial in Lonely Graves in the Suburbs, (To be continued.) )