What do you mean by simple words and quiet books?

Simple language, simple paper, write your own story quietly! Look at everything calmly!

In the red season, the mountains are all red and the forests are all dyed. A clear song, with the sadness written by the laughter in the ink, languishes for love alone. I am willing to dance with Iraq, watch the time, don't complain about my death, don't ask about my future, just sing along.

-Introduction

Spreading a blank sheet of paper and studying a pool of ink can't describe your peace for thousands of years. Ride the breeze to convey your meaning and sing softly. I took a spoonful of sentimental West Lake water to salvage you, beautiful and beautiful, covered with misty rain, driving a boat. I approached you gently, turned around, and instantly stopped, awakening the old dream of sleeping for thousands of years. The flowers on the other side bloom on the other side, languishing in the forgotten river for thousands of years, looking forward to the dream soul on the other side day and night. When the eternal sincerity finally turns into heartbreaking pain of blood and tears. Again, after seeing the flowers on the other side, I will forget about Sichuan and drink Meng Po soup that I drank thousands of years ago. Forget the legend of Sichuan dialect on the other side, I will never forget it. In the end, fate arranged a desperate struggle, but in the end it could not escape the sad ending. The ending is not important, I just hope the flowers on the other side will be as open and happy as before. I can't see my own story in the late rhyme songs of past and future generations. Only a lifetime of loneliness, haggard is true, really haggard, half written, a heart-felt encounter.

How sad and beautiful the story in a book is, because of the reader's perception, just like a liberal arts father, it can be understood in the next stage. Looking at the warmth of a piece of moonlight, I keep a string of joys and experience the tacit understanding of a simple old saying. I sit quietly in the palm print of the world of mortals, reading the joy of your warm and jade-like eyes blooming, your thin bones with distinct fingertips, and gently touching these words that ignite damage; Three thousand miles away, the clouds and the moon.

The moonlight whitened my thoughts, the years flowed silently, and the annual rings of time slowly moved out of the clouds, knowing the traces, only the true feelings would never regret. Sing a song of prime minister's thoughts, dream of a graceful and fresh, poetic song in colorful youth, beautiful rhyme blooming in colorful years, time flies, let it pass, watch the flowing clouds, watch the time. Rain will always come as scheduled, nourishing the soul. Flowers bloom and fall, the tide rises and falls, embellishing time and making love miserable. At first sight, spring blossoms, accompanied Yi San drunk and laughed, and fell in love without complaint.

Plain pen and ink and faint notes meet you. I can only understate it and simplify it. Forever is too far away, I just want to talk about this life. This feeling is felt in the grave. If I were at home and the words were there, I would see it as if I had seen Iraq for the first time. I will watch the flying flowers, laugh at the vicissitudes of life and enjoy the fleeting time with you. You will be happy all your life. If you are well, it will be sunny. Dear, today is August 15. I wish you a happy Mid-Autumn Festival.

Those yellowed pages, the stories in hand, are opened layer by layer ... The full moon is lonely and thin, which makes people sad several times. No one plays the golden harp, but wine cannot enter the throat. If the path is not swept red, the flowers will be scattered and drunk in the west building. The candle went out, the silver light penetrated, but the night wind suddenly blew. With all the flowers gone, who will be a beauty? He wrote the most beautiful palace words, which smoothed his brow and made him sad all his life. He was influenced by tang style's rhyme, absorbed the Yuan Opera of the Han Palace, cooked wine and burned the piano, occupied Mr. Wu Liu's hobby, and played the strings of the Three Dynasties and Five Dynasties, thus creating a nostalgic song.

Since ancient times, many talents are too shallow to care about leaving others to complain. The moment is fixed forever, and the memory is worth remembering. It was that encounter that won the match between heaven and earth. From then on, I saw in the eyes of misty rain that I didn't know anyone except Iraq. This is called fate. If you think about it carefully, it was once a sea change, and it was difficult to become a weak water, which confirmed everything. Some people meet happiness, and some people meet the beginning of tragedy.

Duckweed will return to the sea tomorrow and live somewhere. This is a stranger, a look back, an encounter, a story, and this is the doom of love. Can't bear to add a new standard, but it can't be redeemed. When I turned around, I vaguely heard the sound of years, and the whole city collapsed. I see glitz clearly, but I have to run for glitz. I just need a room and a candle, a bald pen and a writing style. Busy is the premise of life. I just want to be quiet, have a blue sky and dream of Taoyuan. The weather is sunny and the scenery outside the window is infinitely good. I just need a meal and a pulp, and an inch to spend the rest of my life.

What I met was joy, and what I read was empathy. Many feelings don't need to be expressed; Many things will never be mentioned. A love, a thousand times, no refuge; Some people, destiny takes a hand, meet unexpectedly, and are destined to have a beautiful scenery because of you. The world of mortals is rolling and bustling. I said that life should be as wanton as Yuan Ye before dusk. At that moment when all is silent, there is still the last trace of passion. Bananas in the rain are empty and sad. You draw red and green calyx on ink-wash rice paper, which is elegant, gentle and writing. Lead a pot of sorrow and make waves alone. In your stunning picture, my tang style Song Yu is full of silence.

Step into your world, your heart will be happy and your life will be safe. Now, your vision is empty, and my thoughts have gone with the wind, leaving only a lonely moon, a touch of fragrance and a few anonymous poems. Meeting unexpectedly is a glamorous and lucky opportunity, especially when I am as respectable as a square head, as light as a smoke willow and as thin as a morning mist. Free and unrestrained, in fact, with you, intersection, and only a few days, although short, but it is worth collecting for a lifetime.

You are true to each other, you are persistent, lead to a better tomorrow and agreement, put on pale youth and fill in the most gorgeous colors. I spread out a blank sheet of paper and a pool of elegant ink, dancing romantic poems for you. The tenderness of spring, the brightness of summer, the abundance of autumn and the nobility of winter are my beautiful and immortal feelings. You indulge in my romantic feelings, I indulge in your persistent dependence, a bright moon, tender feelings like Yin Hui. I don't want to wake up.

If possible, I want to sing a song for you in the rainy season, and walk leisurely in the drizzly long lane with spring curtains and gentle breeze. In the blooming period of lilacs, I will caress a crimson-lipped guzheng for you and stroll leisurely next door by the water where willows are dancing and vines are fragrant. In the twilight, I am drunk like a dream for you, and the breeze puts the wine in the pavilions of the old flowers and mellow cups. The sea of clouds is vast and gloomy, my heart is low, my canoe is ambiguous, and the ancient shadow paper has opened up my various customs.

If I can, I want to warm a pot of jade wine and watch the world of mortals with a drunk in the cold season. If possible, I want to look for the bright red and intoxicating spring after the bright moon and plum blossom with Yi, and catch up with the flower pole to buy a spring flower. If possible, I would like to uncover the gauze on the bronze mirror for you in the season when the grass grows and the warbler flies, and gently insert a peach blossom on the 3000 moss. If I can, I want to chant for the moon with ancient books and poems on sleepless nights; Appreciate the chrysanthemum with the full moon!

Idle for a long time, the pen touched, trying to describe it hard, full of ink. I climb and trace your outline with my fingertips over and over again, and read your expression word by word. I came to you like this, and I made thousands of makeup for you in the book of painters, just to make you happy. I want to be as beautiful as a flower, like a fleeting time. Who is in last romance?

The bridge was covered with moss and green marks, and the tidbits on the other side slowly left, and no fish like koi fish came to play. Only my awning boat weighs several dike willows, I don't know thousands of times, and the water is faint. I met you in the vast sea of people after the vicissitudes of life, and the old branches and leaves will eventually calm this suffering into a fragrant and elegant bud. It turns out that I have been sad for the return of an epiphyllum. You bloom in my life at lightning speed. It has been played for thousands of years, but it is an anticlimactic shadow play. Like fireworks, like butterflies, added my old worries and new ideas.

The 48-bone bamboo umbrella in full bloom at fingertips is a piece of acacia. The wandering bird in the southeast branch of Cifu folk songs sings a flat and flat half song, and plays Xiaoya Cai Wei in A Lonely World in April. White dew and moss, vain colorful lanterns and stone roads, I was at the end of the pillow, stepping on the rhyme of the absurd and carrying the Shili Pavilion of Sansheng III. A person, a city, distressed for a lifetime. I know. I'm emotional. The wind is rustling and it is raining.

I think you are the happy Shui Ze in my life. I want to forget the world several times, but I always meet quietly in the mountains and rivers. This is a disappointment. I lied and believed it, thinking that rouge and glistening could last forever. Yi is as light as chrysanthemum, emitting a strong fragrance. When a feeling lingers in the heart, the claustrophobic atrium will arouse all kinds of microwaves. The wine in the cup contains trembling passion, and your expression is in the cradle of my mind, showing unique charm.

Looking at the photo of you and me, thinking about the face in the painting, I am ecstatic, and the pen and ink are like flowers. Even if I am a cardamom ci worker, it is difficult to render the ink and blue of the table. The grass is blurred, and I plan to return. It should be a peach blossom face. Standing for a long time, my writing is rotten only for Iraq and stands proudly in the world. Describe a time of ink painting, with low eyebrows and light flowers, carrying a clear lotus in the ancient stream, faint agarwood, and the heart written is still as beautiful as a water lily, stretching in exquisite tenderness. Through the layers of confusion in the vast smoke, reach the junction of mind and soul.

I always thought I was willing to steal makeup before it was too late. It's always hard to find. Who stayed in Huang Meiji for so long? I always look around, and I can't hear sandalwood knocking when swimming in Butterfly Garden. Always laughing and sighing, how can the old story of herbal tea be better than asking? Always have a good time and enjoy another bitter summer. In late summer and early autumn, the grass by the stream is still there. Listen to the mountain stream quietly, the scenery is myriad, a flower is a world, a tree is a bodhi. When the inner garden is still, it's like water passing through this bank and the other bank is still clear, admiring each other through the waves. In time, I sing a heart song with you. Satisfied, satisfied, suitable for me!

Your sincerity and kindness give me the spirit of writing, which is a more effective panacea than time, and cultivate the true feelings into the most beautiful flowers that bloom between you and me. Through the shade of flowers, people are far away. I am the best distance from you in the world, but I have the most wonderful meeting with you. Linxi is a kind of tacit understanding that meets and knows each other silently. Although we can't be with * * * *, we hold the hearts that care about each other. Listen to the water color and happiness of an epiphyllum with you. Watching the fire from the other shore with you is a fable of it runs in the family.

Pour a touch of landscape affection, dye a lifetime of misty rain and light sorrow, and sing an acacia soul with a delicate tenderness. Brew a cup of Jiangnan spring tea, taste a wisp of fragrance, listen to the sound of flowers, and get drunk with a monologue. With a heart full of love, I unfolded this letter I sent from thousands of miles away. It circulated quietly in a piece of water, dyeing my heart and the fragrance for a hundred years. It is an unexpected beauty to wade alone in the world of mortals and see all the clouds on earth, but we all like to be painted with happiness.

You smile gently when you step on the snow in your city, and I listen to the snow quietly. In the quiet corner of the heart, the drizzle is lightly wrapped in dust. Through an ancient porch window, I saw you sitting in the rain and snow, and I showed my talents in Syracuse. And, at this point, let me look at the love castle rising in your heart from a distance, and let me hide your unparalleled elegance in my heart across the vast sea of people!

Early autumn lingers in my heart, feeling late rhyme, full moon flowers, chrysanthemums in full bloom, looking at the purple stranger, watching the smoke fly three thousand, how much have you and I wavered? So stained with the imprint of the past, the flowing sandalwood gently tells the story of the world of mortals, and the drizzle of the phoenix tree gently rolls up the old dreams. I danced the most beautiful part of my life for you. Just welcome you in your cold and arrogant way. The wind blows the flowers lightly, leaving the water clouds and shadows blank. The horizon between ink and fragrance is at your fingertips.

I'm wandering on the ferry of the world of mortals, expecting a turn for the better. Spring flowers are bright in summer, autumn shadows and winter snow. In the old moonlight, the dream was vague and I caught a glimpse of it. When I suddenly look back, you are on the other side, smiling and flying high. Make up lightly, use ink as ink and tears as words. Please make my painting full of poetry and outline your past elegance with poetry. The breeze is full of ink, and the moon is beautiful. Ink is blue, water is in this life, and the moon is in the past. ...

There are romantic cherry blossoms whispering in spring, warm sunshine playing and laughing in summer, maple leaves tango around the swing in autumn, and dew condensation into crystal snow in winter. Poetry is a boat, carrying thoughts like clouds. Rhyme is a red string, holding you and me with eternal tenderness. I borrowed a breeze, blowing warm words like a rainbow. Light a bright lamp to illuminate the truth and awaken the world like water.