The dream has been shattered, and the peach blossoms are flying in the wind

- Broken Sheng

Initially a dream, eventually an apparition.

Hazy and poetic longing for the fallen peach garden, the soul is scattered.

The tide of thought swims, and the heart has nowhere to fall.

Who took the wind chimes on your heart, let the wind blow your red dust, after the smoke and rain dispersed, the rainbow appeared, and it was a place of fragrance, forgetting the injury of the beginning of the rain, how could I bear to remind you, out of the mud pond of love deep into the sea, out of the bottom of the heart.

I'm drunk alone, and you wake up.

Perhaps, it is such a cycle, blooming year by year, and mud becoming mud year by year.

I came, and you departed. I'm gone, and you've left traces of your past.

There is a kind of fate called lingering.

Bearing it, bearing it, is the source of happiness. If you can't bear it, it is the sentimentality in the already hurtful situation, everything comes from nature, but it is not easy to be digested and dissolved by nature, and it is faintly left in the heart, rather than in the natural world where the old and the new are replaced.

The replacement of the old and the new cannot replace the traces left in the heart.

I remember, maybe you've forgotten about it. Maybe it's just my own business to come here, and you don't think it's because I'm missing you. A kind of mental satisfaction, or the confusion of taste, loss and gain do not mean too much waste, but only nostalgia and complementarity in situ.

Learn from your example, pick up the tender pink transparent petals piece by piece, the light fragrance into the hand, intoxicated, full of thoughts, wisps of contemplation slowly poured into my chest, empty associations, comforting the empty sky, once such a year, such a rain in the peach blossom forest, listening to your singing, watching your dancing scarf, surging my heart and thoughts, a trace of my inner world in the delicate outlet, brewing in this color of falling flowers, dream plot show, swam around, It's you picked up inadvertently, lost inadvertently, everything that happened to me floated in my heart, and it became the loneliness of the red dust drunk, and the wind flew in the garden every year, and the wind flew with non-toxic memories and tiredness.

The amorous spring breeze, every time it comes quietly, it will wake up half of the hillside, causing the peach blossoms to bloom and fall drunk, which also attracts my boring wandering.

How long can a dream survive in the bottom of my heart! to be able to die dying.

The wind blows the petals that are about to sleep, the feeling of gently floating, how like a dancing pink butterfly, competing for beauty, showing the last color of loneliness, just that kind of thought, clear and simple, flying freely in carefree, purgatory, that otherworldly wings flash countless notes in the sun, and the notes that are about to slowly extinguish are so wonderful.

An indescribable taste lingers in my heart, rippling with a silent heart, as if those fragrant petals have fallen into my heart one by one, no longer mud in my heart, no longer a falling flower, no longer a falling flower, at least in my heart is extremely gorgeous.

The mountains are high and the clouds are thick, and they get lost, extinguishing all their whims.