The dust of time can't erase the ripples of acacia. It's like a retrospective, a look, fixed on the cross of love. The entanglement of a lifetime is so ups and downs, who can forget the end of the day, life is long, and it is happy. True love is like a chain of love, locking the painful lovesickness. The love under the Bodhi tree and the engraving on the Borneo seal are all so inscribed, and the misty woodjack can see the shadow of the lover, wandering.

A wordless pain that will be buried in my heart forever. In the middle of the night, the only way to drink is to drink alone. I don't want to tear off the thin veil and uncover the sad thing, only the jade pillow veil, in my dreams.

It's like last night's rain, and I can't forget that heartless picture. Your face is like frost, and your mouth is cold, and my love for you is frozen in the empty field. Like a sharp sword piercing the heart, I am like a crooked sail, without a strong point, the painful ship does not know where to drift, is the other side of my love.

Perhaps, the fulfillment of the saying: "The deeper you love, the deeper the hatred." "At this time, it is like being tied to a cross of pain, let you whip and scrape on my body, I don't care, because I already belong to you, even if you break me to pieces, I am willing, whoever makes me yours will not be able to change the promise for the rest of my life.

Your dark fragrance seems to have drunk me in yellow flower wine. I'm drunk, I'm dizzy, I'm like you're on top of the clouds. The beauty, the happiness, the aftertaste haunt me, like the curtain wind of love, bringing my dreams to me. I am like holding the flute in the stormy waves, playing the flute and playing love in the magnificent waves, just like your beautiful grace, rippling in my heart, I am like holding the feet of a red parrot in the fly, swinging. The resistance of the beautiful fairyland, always lingering in my heart, is so indelible, like the silk of vines, so that my heart is broken.

Why is it so hard to love? When I love you, it is so turbulent, and when I don't love you, it is like cold as ice. Is it the helplessness of reality, or is the love not deep enough. All in all, is love really a show? If you love, you will love, and if you don't love, you will be scattered. It's realistic, and it's brutal. If you want to pick up the fat and thinness of love, you won't understand it until you die. If you are not sincere, you will never get love, only wandering in the air is your helplessness.

None of us want to live the days of wind and snow, and all of us want to live forever and the earth is barren. But what is the reality? Do you want others to want to, you love others or not, isn't that just an empty wandering, and helpless ending? You want to let go at this time, but you can't let go, you love her so much, even that you have reached the peak. But people's love for you is just involved, and it doesn't touch people's hearts at all, or it's just playing with you, which is not worth mentioning. Is it your lack of sincerity that has not moved her, or is it your love that makes her annoying, even if it is a word, she does not love you in the final analysis, it is just your wishful thinking, isn't this the so-called unrequited love? Women are bitter, men are even more bitter, especially men who are abandoned by such women, and they are still so infatuated with others, and they are even more miserable.

It is said that the clouds and mist are cleared and the sky is clear, but it is still like that? I am like living and obsessed in your fog, and the pain of unrequited love is only I endure alone. The lock building does not live empty, and people go to the empty building to take a shortcut. The grass is withered, the trail is empty, and the cold autumn endures alone.

The twilight is in the sky, and the shortcut to the building is drawn. I was like a jackdaw running and tossing in the cold night. The abandoned Yinchuan Waterfall sprinkled in the house has long been swept away by your lotus shadow, and I am like a melancholy house, like a monk hesitating in a lonely temple.

Looking into the distance, the grass is at the end of the world, those jagged smoke trees, can not find a place to perch, just like floating in the clouds and mist, in the evening smoke and waves, the lone shadow shakes red, a bleak and bitter rain, so love is poor.

Don't worry, it's all empty. If you want to change the scenery of the year, everything is a cloud of smoke. I want to find the splendor in the clouds, but God refuses to look at it. Only the liver and intestines are broken, floating in the cloud of love, suffering the sky, the earth, and the self who loves.

Who knows that I am worried, and I am the only one who makes it