Appreciation of the bitter prose of lovesickness in the distance of beauty

A piece of paper is pale, a piece of paper is sentimental, a piece of paper is falling, a piece of paper is a dream, a piece of paper is cold, a piece of paper is autumn water, a piece of paper is sad, the next time, it is a dream garden, and the autumn moon is in the sky; Who is wearing red makeup, desolate as a dream, often in autumn water and in dreams? A cavity full of music, piano for half a month, looking alone, rustling, cold wind stinging, dull pain, singing about wine, tears scattered in yellow, ink, fluttering moonlight melody, butterfly language leisurely, bearing a touch of meaning. Next, I will bring you an appreciation of a beautiful woman's prose, which is homesick and bitter. I hope it will help you.

Dancing shallow cups and getting drunk in the breeze, Xiaoyun waning moon falls into the blue sky. Furry eyes are blurred, with a little red in green. Last night, the golden bottle was full of wine, and the scholar was laughing and laughing. At dawn, he was hung over, holding the piano and playing the flute, lying across the lake, regardless of the cold wind; When I woke up this morning, I was vaguely beautiful dancing, dressed in red, dancing quietly, taking off, stepping on clouds and laughing in the lotus, which was like a dream.

Beauty is short, but dust is hard to break. The dancing moonlight is intoxicating, and the misty mist caresses your heart. Tomorrow's peach blossoms will grow in dreams. Lying laughing at the spring breeze, full of self-love. The lonely shadow leans against the window and looks at the cold. It is difficult for Iraqis to comb their old wounds alone. Only Leng Yue will be cool in the future. Who is with me, pity the Iraqis in the dust? The world of mortals is deep and exhausted. The broken night is long and desolate, and the joys and sorrows are old. Put pen to paper, white paper drunk tears.

Life is too short to hate it. Make things in the cup. The view of beauty is not enough, just like roaming and painting a wall. Wealth is hard to last, fame is useless, and snow melts in hot weather. See through, why fight for heroes? A hundred flowers fall, and they will still struggle for hair next year. It is hard to say goodbye to an old friend, and the firefly in the dream goes out. Since falling into the world of mortals, the vicissitudes of life have gone through and turned into frost. Regardless of honor or disgrace, a pure heart is like a bright moon.

Cordyceps sinensis, acacia wine, a dream in the late Qing dynasty; Look at the present, drunk last night, but watch the beauty smile. A few affectionate, all troubled, all empty and melancholy; Worried about rising, laughing in the pool, drinking on the moon. Sigh tonight, meet after a long separation, the world is hard to break; For nine days, the clouds were moving and cold and empty. Flying sand and walking stones, dew condensation, birds singing in the morning; Loose and energetic, feeling like the world, laughing and provoking the world of mortals.

Waterfront pavilions, lingering fate of misty rain and floating dust, a curtain of sorrow, unfamiliar customs of blue economy. Breaking songs to the sky, the sound of flutes is drunk and cranes sing, the eyebrows are blooming in spring, the red makeup is beautiful, and the bones are clear. The world dare not compliment. Passing the sand and laughing, wine dipped in ink, overlooking the sea, the clouds are light and the wind is light, and the scenery is bleak. Looking straight at the winding path, the dust is flying, and the strategy suddenly rises.

Pen and ink, red dust and tears, vicissitudes of life are tired, back and forth, over and over again, once again set foot on this land, with different meanings, different dreams, and an old face, just because the return time is different. Brush your clothes and roll up your sleeves. It's especially cold when you touch water, and the water is different. Looking at the railing, a misty rain, drunk in it, the lotus pond is full of water rhyme, splashing lonely shadows, my thoughts are slow and gentle. Put the wine in the wind and stay in Jiangnan water town. Dust and smoke enveloped, and in the quiet autumn, half a piece of acacia was sprinkled.

The autumn wind is bleak, the silent moon is like a hook, and the prosperity is scattered on the branches. Wild geese fly south, the vegetation is thin, and the beautiful scenery is gone. The waning moon in Xiao Feng, alone in the West Building, makes me feel a little sad. The full moon is short, and the thousand reds have faded and cooled for several years. While singing, caress the wind, splash ink and wave sleeves, and carry clear words with songs. The body is clear and bright, the pulse is soft, and acacia is like wine.

Su Xin is calm, wandering in the chapter of memory, reading the fleeting fragments, and the words bloom in the pen tip, wonderful and warm. Listening to the wind at dusk, waiting for the moon in the sunset, carrying a ray of prosperity like a dream, holding a ray of acacia to sleep. Indigo misty rain, ink-colored Jiangnan water town, idle to see the bright moon white, but the clouds are fleeting. The cicada is silent on the stranger, watching the prosperity fall, in the wind, the original intention is light. Fade away from madness, fade away from madness, and years have scratched a shallow wound on my forehead.

Drunk Zen tea, don't talk about autumn heart, faint moon, secluded window, overflowing tea; Plain face, clear shadow and loneliness. The moonlight is dim, the prosperity is exhausted, and the ancient world is broken into nothingness by winding around the blue dome. On the other side, who plays the flute to send rhyme and perform the eternal swan song? A little sparse, a little sad, mottled into the deepest heart marks of memory. Cloudy, the past is like the wind, Lantian is warm, and the sea is full of moons. Mist locks sorrow, floating light makes thin shadows.

Pale notes, thick Mo Yun, elegant words, full of earthly feelings; Long years, fragrant teas, unique cups and lamps, full of poetic elegance; The clouds are light and the wind is light, holding tea, clever notes and singing warm words; Spring flowers and autumn moon, red dust and flying thoughts spread all over the seasons like songs. Read a beautiful passage, taste fragrant tea, listen to a piano and pick up a touch of mood.

Gently open the porch, listen to the sound of rain, the stamens are as wet as a fool; Oblique silk weaving, thinking thousands of miles away, dreaming thousands of miles back to pray. When do we sleep in the west wing? Cut the west window show together, lazy; Pear mirror shy face, heart according to the lover. The night is deep and the stars are hazy, and the new moon and Qixi love to return to their hometown; Affection is strong, love is attached, and flowers are smiling. Don't forget me, this life, even if there are difficulties, is always the same; No regrets, love, Eden Qin Xiao and Selku.

Listen to the current, sing with strings and harps, print and dye flowers in Jiangnan water town, the piano sounds, and the old broken bridge is crushed by sound. The residual color reflects the water, the white skirt is graceful, the steps are light, the waterside pavilion is rippling, the timbre is long, the fingers are rubbing, the dust and wind pass through the water town in the south of the Yangtze River, the butterflies are drunk in my heart, the strings are broken, the hair is messy, and the eyes are flowing, for three thousand years. The Buddha sleeve is wrapped in clothes, the piano sound is light, and the peach blossom feather fan is graceful and carefree. Sit on the pavilion and admire the color of rouge.

The willow flute in the pavilion is like autumn water. The flowers withered and disappeared like the wind. Quietly leaning against the railing, the moon shines faintly, and the bleak past sings the hedge. In the dead of night, the wind shakes the candle and the shadow is red. The moonlight on the west wing of a window is bright, and you can't escape the loneliness and lock the clear autumn. The cool breeze drips like water, rippling slightly, swaying my heart shallowly, and I quietly listen to the whisper of a fallen flower.

The breeze remains the same, and the piano sounds Xiao Suyun. Learn to chant words with ink, and dance with pen and ink. The origin of ups and downs, gathering and dispersion. Today, there are thousands of chapters and tens of thousands of words, which are sad and hurt. Every word is as cold as ice. Just because the fate of dust is like a dream, the mirror is full of flowers, leaving only a few pages on today's plain notes, indifferent to flowers. Perhaps, a thousand years later, in a dusty wind, there is only one woman singing clearly in the wind. ...

The night staggered, scattering mottled and broken shadows. The wind passed through the window, with a hint of coolness, and brushed a strand of long hair. A little mist and dew fluttered away. Moon cycle, like a dream, lightly stepping on Leng Yan for half a month, leading a totally clean life, walking lightly with his hands on his back, and sitting in front of the mirror tired of dressing. Plain and warm, thin and indifferent, cutting a monologue that is constantly confusing. Golden times, let me be warm and beautiful.

Beauty is also a beauty. Throughout the ages, how many men admire, chase, curse and hurt beautiful women? In the historical speech, how many joys and sorrows, joys and sorrows, love and hate?

The beauty of beauty is charming in literati's works: sinking fish and falling geese, closing the moon and feeling ashamed of flowers; The ring is fat and thin, elegant and elegant; From "if she just turns her head and smiles, there are hundreds of spells cast, and the makeup of the sixth palace fades into nothing" to "I don't regret it because my clothes are getting wider." How many stories have been circulated and buried? How much joy and tears are intertwined? A poet used "desperate beauty" to describe the beauty of beautiful women, which made people feel a lot.

"My fair lady, a gentleman is good at walking" is a fashion from ancient times to the present; "Heroes save beauty" is a man's heart; "Love fragrance and cherish jade" is a gentleman's demeanor; "The peony is dead, and it's romantic to be a ghost."

"Rush to the crown and be angry as a beauty", "Better love beauty than mountains and rivers" and "Daughter laughs" ... let a beautiful woman bear the name of disaster. Is it really a beauty disaster? That's an excuse for men's greed, lust and lack of self-control. Of course, beauty has become a sin.

Beautiful women are unlucky. Ancient and modern beauty seems to be doomed. In this society where men dominate everything, the beauty of a beautiful woman is more like a rose after rain. Although also delicate and charming, but pale and powerless. Beauty becomes a decoration, a capital or a political sacrifice for men. Zhaojun went to the village to serve Wu. What about their true love? Hiding in the boudoir or dying in a girl's imagination? Their beauty is a flash in the pan in the struggle of men. Unfortunate beauty, how to fight, and where to appeal? A beautiful senior of mine was ruined by her boss, and rumors poured on her dead like dirty water. Her cowardice and misfortune, as well as secular filth and negligence of the legal system, have been bothering me, such as fishbone, like a fish in the throat.

Life is hard to find a bosom friend, and it is hard to find a bosom friend through the ages. It is enough for a man to have a beautiful confidante in his life. Not bad! A beautiful woman who can become a bosom friend should be the happiest among beautiful women. Some people listen to their voices, some share their happiness, some relieve their pain, and some help them. However, in the vast sea of people, where to find a bosom friend?

A friend said to me, write about beautiful loneliness. Indeed, she is not lonely, but she is lonely, just like a noisy flower of a butterfly-flying bee, swaying coolly in the branches at night.

Today, a beautiful woman who constantly absorbs the new elements of the times can be unique in her own thoughts and be in full bloom without cover?