Sad and ancient beautiful sentences

Drinking tea under the flower, who will leave white hair in front of the mirror? She was no longer in the dream, so it was just a moment's play.

I am enjoying the scenery and chatting about Sang Ma. After listening to a pipa, there is nothing to worry about.

Hong Fei's writing is a little sad. His mountains and the moon are lonely. Alcohol mash tastes bitter, but tears are full.

Everywhere in the pond, the water is fragrant, the sludge is gloomy, and I am fragrant! Don't shake for the wind, don't hide for the rain, come and go at will, and keep my sky bright. I'm innocent, aboveboard and dirty. What's the harm to me? How do you admire Gao Hua? How can you hurt yourself if you are low? Full moon heavenly heart, I feel this gorgeous chapter. Standing on the waist-high sandbar, the clouds reflected the blue waves. In the lotus picking song, the roots are broken and the world is full of sounds.

Bian Mei was drunk, and Conan had a dream. The night wind is oblique, the clouds break the moon, the shadow is thin and the makeup is light, dragging the fragrance. Looking around, bluebirds are picturesque and green tea is poetic. Ai Xiang half steamed, flurry painting ink. The end of the world is near at hand, and what it used to look like was written in the Spring and Autumn Period. Feng Ling proudly cleaned up his bones, joking quietly. Sip pear blossom snow, turn the luminous cup and sing the golden songs of the year. Looking for it, a sigh, a sigh will make it an immortal record.

Half-life love is quicksand between fingers. A misty rain, a moment of youth. Under the silent swing, flowers fly in the morning and evening. Jinghong left, and the dream was shattered. Whistling mountains and singing water, leaning on pillows and clouds. Dance under the red dust, and the wind and rain will be controlled by it.

Butterflies circle Qingchuan and pretend to be Nanshan. Flowers pity people, flowers intoxicate people, and people who are unfamiliar with different ways have all died, and how much infatuation has turned into a butterfly dream. Fragrant flowers have fallen into dust, infatuation is like butterflies, memories are like flowers, butterflies depend on flowers, flowers cherish people, people have gone, glitz is ignored, and flowers sleep alone. Miss like a rainbow, colorful can overflow, I asked when the butterfly dream will return, the people who were drunk on the colorful bridge on Qixi, and those who were intoxicated with pacing had already mourned and shed tears.

At that moment, I traveled all over the ancient garden, picking fragrant flowers, smiling grass and adding new makeup. Qingfeng invited Wen to talk about pen pals, wrote thousands of poems, played chess and calligraphy, drank thousands of pots and watched the drunken sunset. My road twists and turns, through a sheltered depression, cutting love red, cutting green, singing and dancing, quiet and moving.

With a touch of warmth, with a touch of missing, I pushed open the heavy door, with memories and missing, looking for thousands of scenery in the depths of the season. Peach blossoms, dust and fog, carved cases, wet ink, small red characters, all about your past, all about your fragments, such as happy sentences in the rhyme of ancient poetry, quietly falling into disarray, embarrassing words, and so on, are deeply engraved in my heart.

I don't know how to worry about the rain in Mao Mao, but I want to be stronger with the wind. Sleeve flowers, shake off the cloud pool. Drunk with flowers, drunk with words, misty, swaying in the rain, always like willow makeup, spotless, can not help but pick up the jasper that once ravaged, drunk with the wind, drunk with the rain, drunk with dreams, quietly listening to the' low sound' when raindrops fall. A kind of sadness that seems like a lifetime ago deeply touched the gentle memory. A little sour taste, a few sad poems.

Smile, quietly elegant, leisurely near the water. The world of mortals is like a dream, stepping on the folds of the years and stepping on the poems that have been popular for thousands of years. A drop of tears, like yesterday, lingered at the ferry for thousands of years, and the flowers bloomed, the peach blossoms were unfamiliar, Ying Ying was speechless, and the flowers fell with people. Holding green dew, white clothes and light sleeves, walking alone in the valley. If water condenses smoke, a bosom friend is far away? .

I feel very sad when I see myself once so earnest and pious in other people's tracks. I want to cry when I think that I have trekked all the way through Qian Shan.

The bleak moonlight is the combination of the mottled walls of Jinling City and the moonlit night of parting night. Looking back at the sadness of leaving people, I can't take my parting away, but I have interpreted a soft and lost flower rain.

On a bleak autumn night, after the lonely and wandering moon gently told me how to describe the most beautiful scenery in my heart, I stopped complaining about why life always has too many regrets and sighing that the end of life is always a faint smoke.

I'm not you, and I don't know Iraq from him. It's okay to come and go. I am very sad and happy, and I also said that I am very close and intimate. It used to be boring, but now it's boring in retrospect!

700 years ago, you said: Meeting only for parting. 700 years later, you said: reincarnation is just to wait. I don't know how many years have passed, and I am finally willing to fold the last peach blossom at the end of the year.

A melody rustles, the joys and sorrows of the world have a faint vicissitudes of life, and the sleeves are full of faint fragrance, which makes the secular feelings disappear without a trace. In my fingers, I danced my life's prosperity, suddenly looked back, dreamt of melancholy, and lost you in the melancholy review.

The spring breeze is shallow, like a peach blossom that can't be sung. The willow trees that blew over the river bank and the people who blew over the river bank were loose and fast. It was a good time at that time. I met you under such a good willow tree, and I have seen you for ten thousand years.

Empty negative lingyun talents, life never open-minded. Birds crow and flowers fall, bamboo withers and tung withers and phoenix doesn't come. A good horse is full of sadness because it has no owner. Jiuquan does not sigh, sending satellites into the night station.

However, even though times have changed, I can already give up with a smile. I really can't give up from my heart. Because, if you deliberately forget the gentle meaning of late autumn, you will only miss it.

Don't lean on the railing, the wind is blowing and the rain is raining at night; Glass umbrella, plain clothes, falling flowers in a dream. Outside the fog, the time is shallow and the age is getting longer; Memory stranded, deep in the season, the world of mortals in the past.

Who can promise me that I will not abandon or leave the flowering period until I return? Who can make me happy, carefree and fearless, I am happy in my dream. Even if the years lock the time of fate, be quiet for me. The sound of the rotation of heaven and earth rang again and disappeared.

Who can laugh at ten years of suffering and shoot the sky and the moon? Wine is in the breeze, who can put Long song's tears in the cup? Who can travel all over Qian Shan just to embrace each other? Who can risk one's life to pour out all kinds of amorous feelings for you? Is it love or delusion? You really don't understand. Everything is empty?

Don't forget after meeting, the wind and rain used to be like a splendid hall. Looking back, the footprints of the journey I walked step by step, tears fell, I felt sad, maybe time was too ruthless. As for me, I can't bear to cry when I think about it. I often look back at the thin and cold ferry and see no hope for the future. In this way, I often give a cold and lonely sigh in the thousands of miles of smoke.

Flowers bloom and fall, clouds roll and clouds relax, and time rushes through my fingers in the twenty-second autumn of my life. Half a life, suddenly looking back, alone. Some people say that a lifeless life is a ruin. Then I am a withered grass on the ruins. After falling, it was blown away by the wind without a trace. Soon, spring will come back, and it is no longer my season. There will be no spring in my life.

The person who once promised me that I could spend time with the hairpin has now become a red-hot person. Who promised me a handful of lotus seeds, but now I cook acacia. Who promised me to go home tomorrow, but now I have a stiff neck, Meng Han. The person who promised me to get married in red is now me in white. The person who promised me to grow old together has now become a person from first frost. After three or four years of dreaming, Wang Sun left and refused to come back. The girl has been hiding right and wrong. Is the change the same?

Residual wind and drizzle, homesick tears, disappointed. The wind, blowing heartbroken, I do not know when to rest. Do you remember that the bridge is flowing, the dream of falling flowers and falling snow is still there, the dream of waking up is still there, and it is heartbreaking. When I miss you, when I cry, when I am depressed, when I wander. The corner wintersweet is bitter and cold, and the cold wind is heartbreaking! I looked up at the dim light and suddenly looked back at the empty place. I only caught a glimpse of you, but I caught a glimpse of a dull and far-reaching attitude towards life. I will never be dominated by everything. I am alone in the turbid waves, and I only want to die holding the bright moon. There is a withered tobacco and a white mustard on the river.

A river of autumn water stops everything, and the world of mortals dreams of night. I'm tired of thousands of things, so let me find them. Want to look back and smile, full of water. To express his melancholy, he wrote a book. It is hard to accept, and the piano appeals like running water. Don't worry about the past, it's hard to stay. Go ahead, it's harder to accept. Lonely boudoir hates longer; Dreams revolve around the soul in vain. There is no gathering in this life.

Jimo fireworks, the player's ruthless love-hate dilemma; Cherry blossoms fall in England and sink into the western hills at dusk. Looking back suddenly, at the end of the song, no one danced with silks and satins, sighing lightly, and tears flowed like water. Regret at the scene, micro-work to be done. Who will stop to accompany it? Can't wait. Can't see, can't meet, wait, can't see, can not love, don't miss, tireless, never tired. With tears in my eyes, I didn't sleep, and a faded cool smoke passed.

A melody rustles, making the world sad and happy; With a touch of vicissitudes, the sleeves are full of fragrance, and the secular feelings disappear without a trace. Dancing through your fingers, falling into a prosperous life and playing romantic sadness. A bright moon, carrying a wisp of breeze, passes through the Millennium dust. Lonely fingers slip through the sadness of the soul, and how much affection is left. How many laughter and tears are flying in the sky, suddenly looking back, a dream. I have devoted my life to tenderness and poetry, but I have already lost you in the melancholy review. ;