The night is divided into half a moon, and it hurts the soul. In the middle of the night after three years, the bright moon illuminates the world, and you can see a prosperous scene alone! Tears accompany the moon, the night follows the wind, pouring down!

In the middle of the night, the wind and rain cover it, and the bridge crosses the depths of the water, Jun; Living in the shadows, blurring the shadows, weird the scenery, driving away the sadness, attacking at night, drunk to see the glimmer of the lonely moon, sighing with both hands in the southwest, thinking lightly, one life away from sorrow, three generations of eyebrows. Looking forward to her return, standing alone in the middle of the night, looking at the southwest, there is a wisp of concern, holding hope and infatuation: purple clothes and green shirts, hugging each other and tears raining, obsessively looking at the red face, never to return!

The night is cool and windy, sad, breaking the cocoon into a butterfly, spreading its wings around him, burying three years of thoughts, sorrow between the eyebrows, lonely willows, the singing of the nightingale, skimming the water of Weilan Lake, describing the sorrow, the year of parting, the moon before the flower, the number of volleys of thoughts, and the reincarnation of a leaf. The nightingale licked the wounds gloomily, and fell in love alone. A simple song, describing a lifetime of sorrow, condensing a thousand words, it is difficult to say goodbye. The moon is in the sky, and the royal step is halfway through the night, and the eyebrows cover the moon sorrow.

Four minutes into the night, quiet and drunk butterfly pool, fold the ink spread, close to the end of the world, but can not find her, the night is colder, the thoughts are gone, weathered, empty looking back, lonely prosperity, memories around people, lingering. The reflection of the courtyard of the hidden road is in the flowing water, enjoying a round of bright moon, sighing through the ages, a place of lovesickness and two sorrows, falling flowers drifting into the butterfly pond, cutting and missing, countless sorrows, pouring down! The night of parting is quiet and cold, greeting alone, waiting for the taste to be sour and bitter, and there is no complaint.

First acquaintance, that year, drizzle season, stepping on a place of spring mud, three miles outside the township, you, sitting alone in the flower pavilion, index finger around the red line, coated with rouge aroma, eyebrows and wisps of sadness, in the hand, the mandarin duck picture is broken, dripping tears, to the face and fall, you, sad in the heart, record the book of poetry, obsessive thoughts, cover a line of silence, hide a poignant volume, open the book in the coming year, and add sadness!

The winter wind resists the frost, and the night is only the purple flower stream. That is, the song fell short, and the spring rain hit the green shirt. Fantasy, for you to pull the bun, purple hair, letter fingers, it, the remaining fragrance, for the sleeve to add thought. Remember, drunk under the moon before the flower, not as good as your shallow eyes, green rain and fine tears, a stroke, go to winter, a painting, return to spring!

At half a minute and five o'clock in the night, the moonset warbler has gone away, Xiao Xiao is sad and sad, who is in the middle of the night? Gloomy soul, thoughts flying, a hundred turns and a thousand times, who is in the middle of the night? Standing alone, counting the reverie of several lifetimes, there is no lack of infatuation in the world, and the rest is guarded in the middle of the night! Let's stop time, in the middle of the night, I am sad!

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