Rain in Mao Mao can't scare dreamers.

Soft wind, blowing through the transparent screen window, overflowed my cold face. Outside the window, it is raining intermittently. The rain is good, the wind is soft, the wind is even and as light as a cloud.

The world in the rain is fresh and quiet. The air is clear and cool, and the trees are water green, full of purity and clarity, adding a leisurely and graceful look.

The world of mortals is boundless and the sea of people is boundless.

I stood in the rain, stretched out my hand, let the gentle rain dance in my palm, make cool ripples in my palm, playfully kiss my cheek and fondle my wet hair tips. In the rain curtain, eager eyes, with a little continuous breeze, bring you intoxicating breath. My heart is rippling in the rain and fog. Looking forward to moving eyebrows, taking love as a sail, dreams as a horse, carrying a dream butterfly dance skirt, wading through the water, fragrant, rain or shine.

Plant a cool note with words and pick off a breeze within reach, so in the hot summer of July, the dry heart is as moist and crystal clear as drinking a sweet bottle. In July, my heart is cold.

Missing, a true memory, all the details of mountains and rivers, lush green leaves and rivers are all on the paper in the breeze and drizzle. Riding the early autumn wind, you came and gently shook the ripples in your heart.

The wind sends coolness, the rain sings the wind, the shore is calm and the blue waves ripple; Fresh, charming and fragrant; I can't leave. You have a long blue pool, lush green and butterflies flying.

I don't want to be as bright as the stars, I just want to listen to the sound of bloom flowers falling on the boundless grassland with you; In the breeze and drizzle, feel the lofty sentiments of ebb and flow with you; If you take me up the ladder of life, even if it is ordinary and short, I have no regrets. Always want to quietly walk into your gentle heart when you sing softly; I always want to turn into your graceful poems when you are absorbed in meditation, and that wandering silk thread is the string I miss.

The wind is light and the rain is fine, and there is music, which lingers in my ears. Walking through the wonderful rhythm, the soul is purified and transparent, the graceful, lingering and infinite extension oozing from the apex of the heart, the sound swept from the melody or the tenderness in the heart, or the surging waves, the soul is elegant and imaginative.

Flying in a dream, my smart and beautiful posture is vivid in my mind: a pair of beautiful feet and the rhythm of my heartbeat, a pair of monologues depicting my heart with jade hands, a pair of delicate and touching beautiful eyes, and a colorful world is displayed on a personal stage, which is dreamy and picturesque!

Words are like wine, and lotus flowers bloom in a beautiful and exquisite heart. Are you drunk? Let me splash an ink painting and a misty rain through drunkenness. Dance is connected with poetry, between the lines, criss-crossing, and the pen and ink are fragrant. Drunk at the top of the clouds, drunk outside the free travel of poetry.

Who plays the flute weakly? Hold a boat dream, the dust is bound to thousands of feet, and the fragrance is full of sleeves. Sandy jade hand, the harp is long; Be personable. Meet in a lifetime, and leave sorrow in a lifetime. A heart fragrance treasured for thousands of years. Looking back, how can I leave my sadness?

Who played forever bosom friend?

A pipa, a Millennium flute. A cavity tenderness, a river cloud dye. Meet in a lifetime, know each other in a lifetime. Millennium agreement, so that all the chapters and sentences, melodious in the wind. If the piano is like a string, it sounds like an infinite journey. The chords are broad-minded without thinking, and full of sorrow to comfort you. Small bridge with flowing water, three twists and turns of sunshine, graceful words and long-lost love.

Flowers are similar year after year, but people are different year after year!

You, still in place, and I, still in the distance.

I looked up at the line of sight, thin blue sky, thin white clouds, thin white horses galloping thousands of miles, thin cowherd and weaver girl on both sides of the galaxy. . .

Soak in the gentle breeze, suck the fragrance of grass, and walk towards you along the path of Didi Cui. Implant the charm of life into Tang and Song poetry. Is your light drowned in the loneliness of midnight? Occasionally, have you ever crossed the imprisoned city, crossed the piano that has never been sung in the ages, and missed the person who also misses you; Pain, someone as painful as you? If the wind is your news, there will be my swaying dance; If rain is the melody in your heart, there will be a * * * sound that I long for and whirl.

Breeze and drizzle, lush green grass, clear lake, quaint old trees, milky white clouds, pure blue sky, traces of seasonal switching, expressionless show its unique characteristics and colors, making everything ripple.

Say goodbye to the classical elegance of the homeland and sit in the fresh arms of different cities in foreign countries. In the past, the cultural heritage carried by bricks and tiles was covered by foreign natural feelings. A kind of nostalgia, sowing a kind of longing, collecting a kind of tranquility, let Huazhang light the lamp of life.

Longing for the long-lost wind and rain, the rain line opens the sleeping eyes, and the wind is infinitely eager to get rid of endless loneliness and desolation. I am dreaming, and the world of mortals is rolling. Who thinks I'm lonely? Returning home is like a dream, and whose figure follows the stars and the bright moon? Don't eat fireworks The wind is a companion and the cloud is a friend. Who comes with the wind to render my color!

The wind is rustling every year, looking for it.

Flowers fall in bloom, go to Qiu Lai in spring, and geese return to the south, making it difficult for people to get together. This ordinary, long, bleak and annoying life will always remind you of the brevity of reunion when you leave. After leaving spring, you will have a deeper connotation and a more beautiful connotation. Entering the rainy season, it seems that I have fallen into a crystal clear dream, and the days are often particularly lingering and subtle because of intermittent rain.

The wind blows silk, which makes me sad Where is not the place where I should stay? Peak, trough, trough. Flap your wings, flap your wings, and roam at will. With flying romance and care. My soul longs for nature and my heart is close to the sky.

I can clearly feel your breath, just in the breeze.

I really hope to see your back and footprint, just in the clouds that I can't bear to part with.

I really feel your sincerity, in those warm words.

I also heard a faint sigh, just like the wind chimes that the morning breeze caressed the heart window, shaking a little helplessness.

I also feel your pain and pity. Your deep eyes are in the clouds in the sea, and there is always melancholy rain scratching the beauty of the clear sky.

Standing in the distance, standing on the other side, standing in the unreachable scenery, standing in the broken chapter and sad beauty of meteors and fragrant rain. The sea of people is always gray, and our hearts are always boundless.

If you miss it again in this life, there is no hope of meeting.

Wind rises, rain flies, dusk.

Tearing pain, tears of parting. Where the soul stops, the body travels to Wan Li, looking for displacement.

No one can say for sure whether the drifting white sail yearns for distant mountains or blue sky, past lives, the afterlife. Four seasons of hard work. You know, in my lush dream, I hold your hand and grow old with my son.

On a foggy rainy night, a frame of silhouette was separated by a veil of fog. Cut off the candles in the west window, burn Yi Deng like beans, let it fall red like rain, and dance like acacia.

Put pen to paper lightly into a poem, blooming the fragrance of roses in front of the window, but full of melancholy. Love is like a flying flower, as light as a dream, and a thousand miles of soul dreams with you.

Outside the window, who is singing in the wind and rain? Xiao Sheng, a season of anxiety.

Love is like the wind, which blows away the dusty heart for a long time, and love is like rain, which gently moistens the bud. The true feelings are infinite and sincere forever!

In the long river of years, there will always be a kind of beauty that makes you dream, and there will always be a feeling that makes you fascinated. A fragment of thinking, an interpretation of mood and an emotional treasure. I hope that the warmth of this road can wash away the dust and immortal soul of my life, listen quietly and listen to the sounds of nature, so that I can cherish the fragrance day and night for your perfection.

Fate is the continuation of feelings at the end of past lives;

Destiny is an unchangeable oath before the reincarnation of this life;

Fate is a beautiful dream, and we can meet again in the afterlife.

Quietly listening to the rain tapping on the branches,

Carved with familiar names, long flutes and trembling notes play the sound of nature,

Drifting rain, distant road, years like a breeze, boiled my diffuse heart.

That is the flute rhyme of the wind, which makes me intoxicated in my dreams. Drunk for a thousand years. . . . . .

I am afraid that my attachment to you is getting deeper and deeper, and I am afraid that the wings of butterflies will disturb your quiet dreams. . . How many sleepless nights, fragments of the soul, engraved with fiery poems, just want to fall in front of your window one second earlier and blend in with your dreams, because I heard your deep call and my heart is connected. Appreciate each other.

Being drunk with you is like a thousand-year dream.

In the hustle and bustle of glitz, there are always some ancient and pure feelings buried in the depths of my heart, without deliberate words, only soul mates. A tacit understanding of the soul flows gently between the lines of Ningxiang.

A concern, a lifetime moved; A reminder, a lifetime of warmth.

Away from the noise, whose heart sings and whispers in the breeze and drizzle?

Some lovesickness has passed away, some look back gracefully, and some are plain and happy. Who sang them into a pile of poems? Some fleeting stories, some nostalgia for the past, some affectionate singing, who played them gently?

Staring at the bright moon, flying through the ages, looking down, curling up, ink falling on the earth.

Some words seem to come from ancient times, some elves seem to jump out of online packages, some subtle feelings, and my thoughts seem to have gone through a thousand years, following you in a silent way, walking into the clouds of years and stroking and meditating.

Poems are long and feelings are long. Love songs of the soul, thin thoughts, lost time,

It's all in your ancient poems.

The song of the soul is elegant, elegant, lingering and full of lofty sentiments.

In my dream, I think about flying flowers endlessly. In my dream, flying flowers chase running water. When a song "Sauvignon Blanc" poured out, how many sad feelings were broken by the lingering sound?

The quiet and beautiful years passed in a low voice, and the troubled mind stopped in the quiet harbor.

How many vicissitudes has the world of mortals experienced? Thoughts sing in the fragrant light ink. From the Millennium Ferry to the beautiful Jiangnan Water Mae, it is poetic and picturesque as you described.

Some wet feelings follow you, from the profound ancient meaning of the Book of Songs. Rhyme from graceful Song Ci. Some flying words watch eternity on your fragrant threshold.

You whisper in the breeze, I sing in the drizzle, a mountain stream.

Hand in hand, tacit understanding!