Help me find eight beautiful articles

1 You are a dragonfly, and you touched the center of my lake.

Then my memory made a skirt with ripples, and even loneliness was embroidered with brocade. At this time, I am young and beautiful.

The autumn wind dispelled the cold silence on the earth, and there was a whisper in the sun. I listened attentively, but all the news about you in the wind is called silence, and every time I miss it is called forgetting.

I shouldn't blame you for not reading Ye Zhi's affectionate poems to me, because we didn't meet head-on, but you happened to pass by my lake when you were too tired. I shouldn't blame you for holding your breath with a buttonwood leaf, because your inner anchor is too heavy, and you don't expect another adventurous voyage; I shouldn't blame you. I will always remember you with a momentary lovesickness, because you have a pair of flying wings and are destined to leave me for a long journey.

You are a dragonfly, and you touched the center of my lake.

Then, the sound of flapping wings gradually moved away from my panic. But your leaving didn't calm me down, so I fell into a whirlpool of sadness. Beautiful wavy lines merge into resistance and surround my heart.

You woke me up from the depths of my dream, but only told me that you wanted to use a kite to stay away from the rain in June, and I could only stay where I was. I sealed all our secrets in the Woods and gave them to autumn. I hid in the clothes of the autumn wind and recalled the mood at that time-

It was an eternal dragonfly dream, and it seemed to wake up before it started.

I mistook the ending for the beginning, and I still can't believe that the fate with you has gradually dissipated with the ripples. You broke through my sight and disappeared into the blue sky.

So I know you are not a dragonfly, and I no longer have a lake.

2

Zhuangzi: When we have no choice.

Author: Bao Pengshan article Source: Network hits: 40 1 Update time: 2007- 1 1-2.

When we are so beautiful that we are at a loss, we will realize our limitations. At the time of "the road of shade is too many to see", can't we realize that our small mind and limited senses are not blessed and enjoy too many blessings from heaven? Reading Zhuangzi, we are often confused by Zhuangzi, and sometimes we have to dance. Besides, what other ways can you express your inner feelings? This "gifted genius" is full of nonsense and strange ideas. He always scares us in some places, and when we are frightened, we will find that the sunrise and the moon are in front of us, falling off the cliff and starting a strong wind. Eyes wide open, customs swept away. At the same time, he always has something we don't understand, including mountains and rivers and a bright future; There will always be a realm that we have never touched. The higher we lift, the stronger we drill. "The Creator has endowed nature with all mysterious grace here", and what kind of magic performance nature has concentrated on this "Huang Wei" philosopher!

"Zhuangzi in pu water fishing. The king of Chu told the doctor to go first. Said,' I hope I'm tired in China.' "

Pre-Qin philosophers, who doesn't want to be an official? "Once power is in hand, order will come." "In its place, seek its politics." "The official of a gentleman is also righteous." Who doesn't want to incite the world through secular power and realize their utopian dreams? Zhuangzi's chance came, but Zhuangzi's heart was cold. This is an interesting scene: on the one hand, Mr. Zhuang Zhou, who has a clear heart and is like a boat, and on the other hand, two doctors who shoulder the mission of the king of Chu, are respectful and restless. Who can enjoy the real pleasure of life better? This may be a topic that will always be sued, and there can be no unified interests. There is too much understanding of happiness. In my opinion, the bureaucrats at all levels in Zhuang Zhou can definitely understand the weight of "traveling incognito", while the bureaucrats of all sizes will never understand the significance of Zhuang Zhou's "leisure and pleasure" to real life. This is about the value evaluation of "freedom". This is also a scene of deja vu-it reminds us of a scene about 700 years ago by the Wei River in Zhuangzi: an octogenarian was fishing with a straight hook, but his intention was to catch King Wen. He succeeded. Zhuangzi, who was much younger than Jiang Taigong (only about 60 years old when he died), was fishing sincerely at this time. This may not be poetic-he may really need a fish to satisfy his hunger. At this time, Zhuangzi is faced with double temptations: in front of him are clear lakes and fish swimming leisurely in the water, and behind him is the phase of Chu-Chu Weiwang is going to hand over the state affairs of China to him. Chu Weiwang probably knew Zhuangzi's temper, so he used the word "tired", but does Zhuangzi want this kind of "tired"? How many people have experienced the sense of fulfillment and accomplishment endowed by power in this burden? This is an unbearable burden in life.

"Zhuangzi ignored it."

How "ignoring"! The clear waves of Pushui attracted him, and he had no time to look back at the power behind him. He inadvertently pushed away the once-in-a-lifetime development opportunity in the eyes of laymen. He thought it was a boring interruption. If he has learned Xu You, he should jump into Lishui to wash his wrinkled ears. Probably afraid of scaring away the fish hovering around the hook, he didn't do it. So it didn't make these two travel-stained doctors too embarrassed. He only asked two well-dressed doctors a seemingly irrelevant question: Is the turtle in the paddy field of Chu willing to go to the king of Chu, let him pack it in exquisite bamboo boxes, cover it with silk scarves, and treasure it in the ancestral temple, in exchange for "keeping bones expensive" with death, or is he willing to drag his tail and live freely in muddy water? At this time, the two doctors were a little sane and replied, "I'd rather drag my tail and live in mud."

Zhuangzi said, "In the past, I would drag my tail in the paint."

You guys go! That's what I chose. I wonder how many people will be ashamed of this story recorded in Autumn Water. This is a kind of pure spirit that grows from extraordinary wisdom, and it nourishes the amazing internal force of refusing temptation. Of course, we can't ask people with low mental health and weak internal strength by hanging over this issue, but I'm still glad to see an example of an ancient China scholar who refused to be hired by powerful media and resolutely refused to cooperate. Yes, in a tradition that culture succumbs to power, Zhuangzi is a lonely tree, a lonely tree that guards the soul moon at night. Why hasn't the moon been lost when most of us are sleeping in the dark? It is because of this that one or two trees guard the moon alone on a breezy night.

The lonely tree under the lonely moon is an unattainable charm.

A Zhuangzi, in a word, pity for mankind! Zhuangzi seems to be ruthless and powerful, but in fact she is the most affectionate and the weakest! Zhuangzi is the most fragile heart, the most tender heart, the most sensitive and therefore the most fragile heart. ...

Hu Wenying said Zhuangzi:

Zhuangzi's eyes are extremely cold, and his heart is extremely hot. My eyes are cold, so I don't care about right or wrong; A warm heart is full of sadness. Although I know it's useless, I can't forget it. It's really hot intestines; Although I can't forget myself, I don't do it in the end, which is a cold look.

This is Zhuangzi's own "philosophical dilemma". At this time of Zhuangzi, wandering between the two, like a trapped beast in inner contradictions. He can't help himself, he is obsessed with himself and has no intention of going out. He is at a loss and helpless. He has the coldness and sharpness of a snake and the gentleness and generosity of a dove. For all kinds of absurdity and evil in the world, he knows that he can't challenge with the scholar's bald pen, but he can only look on coldly, but in the end he can't let go. Therefore, with the cruelty of the warlord's sword and shadow to the extreme, his brushwork is also absurd to the extreme; Because the world is extremely dark, his attitude is extreme. The world is dirty, and we can't talk to it with solemn and decent language, but we can only deal with it with absurd, absurd and unprovoked words. He seems to be competing with the world to see who is more rogue, who is more unreasonable, who is more ruthless, who is more boring, who is more reckless and who is more caring. Whoever is more naked and carefree can break the jar and fall. Who is more unjust, more illogical, more directionless and more heartless-just, who can't see a bitter tear in his absurd remarks? How can we not stand this strangeness and alienation full of blood and tears, respect and love?

Ships on the banks of the river, swaying reeds, and the wind blowing from the south ... You can see everything in the Ganjiang River, but you can't find the expected figure in your field of vision.

I was in the corner of Wang Teng Pavilion, thinking about Wang Bo alone.

Tourists' thoughts, like an unreachable autumn wind, travel through time and space to snuggle up in the power of the Wang Teng Pavilion. Standing on the cold Wang Tengting, when I opened my eyes and closed my eyes, all I saw was Wang Bo's thin and melancholy expression. The sunset hugs the weeping Wang Tengting, whose shadow lies obliquely in the river. The emperor is still lost, and the Yangtze River is empty outside the threshold. On the lonely pavilion, the intertwined scenes no longer exist, and orchestral music is just a kind of echo. I sat on the steps of the pavilion, listening to Jiang's voice alone. Wang Bo, an unparalleled genius, is hidden in the folds of jiang bo.

The sadness of the gazebo silently let me follow. Every inch of the floor, every Dani is touching my heartstrings. I want to continue a poem for Teng, who is in tears. The poem is full of scars. The tearful Tengwangge walks into my dream alone every day and wanders alone. I couldn't find Wang Bo's poems, and I was awake for countless nights, sleeping in the pavilion until dawn.

Some people say that all landscapes will exclude some people and favor some people. All people will be born in different landscapes. Wang Teng was not affirmed in court, but was repeatedly condemned and demoted. However, the layers of dissatisfaction can't erase his temperament of wandering around the world and singing and dancing. Being demoted to the edge of the Ganjiang River as a small secretariat, he also wanted to build a pavilion of "singing on sandalwood boards and drinking in golden bottles" for himself to attract literati to sing. On that Mid-Autumn Festival, Wang Bo's "one-man show" was on. He deeply looked at the river where the water meets the sky, and felt that life was like a tributary of this river, with ups and downs, but a cavity of passion and desire floated freely on paper, and all articles were full of yearning for life. Some people say that "thick accumulation and thin hair" is for "thick hair" Wang Boke lived in Jiannan for several years and finally got his peak. Tengwang Pavilion is just a way to show its towering posture. Changan at this time may have completely forgotten Wang Bo. Who would have thought of stroking Zheng at the same time Nowadays, lonely raccoons on the banks of the Ganjiang River fly up and down with gifts given to them by Wang Bo at this time of the year, holding up the amorous feelings of endless autumn waters.

"Things are different, and people are not omnipotent." Tourists still linger on the pavilion, looking at the water clouds and swords outside the pavilion, and their hearts are like a river. The pavilion is lined with faint clouds, like a pair of eyes and a face full of tears.

The boat is carrying the long shadow of the pavilion, moving forward gloomily, and the charm of Wang Bo is faintly visible in the turbulent river waves. This young man who has read a lot of poems since he was a child is a young man who was born in Tao Tao and walked in a thread-bound book. He lives in the hometown of Curie and Shu, and he doesn't want to do anything except study. It's a long way from Shu to Chang 'an. You don't know anyone, and you are obsessed with words: Nine days in Shu, the feast of the holy spring ... "Every article is amazing." There are many doors in life, but some doors are always open to some people. Don't try to knock on the door, it's the door of life regret. If Wang Bo devotes himself to writing, history may be rewritten. Unfortunately, Wang Bo lived in Jiangnan for two years. After all, he doesn't want to be lonely. He hesitated to go north and joined the army in Henan. Scholar's pedantry will eventually lead to great disaster, and the dragon will be furious and risk losing his life. The ups and downs of life are repeated, and Wang Bo's heart is cold.

A pavilion/hiding under the clouds/tired as a yellow bird/crying in the face of the river. The river flows slowly, and sometimes it is gentle enough to make people cry. A scholar who talks like a book sometimes makes people taste wrong. Struggling? Confused? Lost? Still angry? After all, life is not as poetic, simple and intuitive as "counting boats to the sunset". -people are speechless, but they are drunk. King Kudo is not in Chang 'an, but Chang 'an is the hometown of emperors and princes. Standing on this exquisite and elegant pavilion, the infinite amorous feelings of Ganjiang River can be seen in a glance, and Wang Bo's dream soul can snuggle up with the pavilion forever.

Kundera said: Life is a tree full of possibilities. During the construction of Jiannan, Wang Bo may have simulated various possibilities in the future, but he didn't expect that the most desperate possibility in life was waiting in the water.

Wang Bo, like a broken kite, plunged into the river. Can his soul be attached to the fish in the river? I wonder if he will open a river of flowers on his path, which will make the fish happy and melancholy.

The sunset has become a afterglow, and people go to the pavilion to empty birds, leaving a lonely space.

See you in your lifetime.

Will not be spared

The palm of your hand suddenly grows a tangled curve.

Before sensible, after sensible.

It won't last a day.

If you can't stay, you can't count the time.

I decided to take off my feathers and complete this lonely journey alone. And gave the peach blossom to Tao Yuanming; Qinghe to Zhou Lian Creek; Narcissus returns to ancient Greek mythology; Lilacs belong to the "Rain Lane" oil-paper umbrella; Keep the bright sadness for yourself forever. At the ferry crossing where I met my soul for the first time in my life, I was holding an expired old ticket and quietly waiting for the last passenger ship to reach its destination. ...

In silence, quietly calm the dust in the world and keep an eternal pure land in your heart; Let all the young troubles fall into the mud and be buried quietly. Dust washed away, empty mountains and clear rain in my heart. This is my only wish. It's just that you don't understand my delicate mind and often confuse my quiet reserve. Perhaps, you will never touch the quiet wind. Your heart is exhausted, leaving only the ghost of my words hovering over you. ...

The face is covered with fog and exists in the state of plants. Hold your breath, in the west wind of flowing water, realize the wonderful truth of flowers and laughter at Lingshan holy meeting with the grace and agility of a bay. "The weak willows are suspicious of the wind, the jungle is like a towel, and the smile is also embarrassing." Love for you is always quiet. Your last look and smile left me without any speculation, and I never said any sad parting.

In fact, my love for you has always been quiet, moving in my heart and wet in my eyes, making the petals of my dying heart fall.

But immersed in a dream without trace, a person looked at the world coldly. "Homeless, can tell the difference between life and death; No brothers. You can talk about Sang Ma; People waiting for me, I have no dreams to give. The body is already like the canopy in autumn; My heart is pinned on running water. How can I be a dream girl again? "

The road of wandering is always so difficult. "I don't know what I'm thinking, water and wind are empty." Years look at you and me across the bank, growing old inch by inch. The feelings accumulated in the words gradually fade away and grow old in the ticking of the clock. Always a passer-by, the arrow of time shattered blx. The hustle and bustle of the city and the world of mortals can't hide the bustling desolation.

Relive the throb in your heart and often ask yourself, where should I put you? Where do you put yourself? Who is the beauty of words? Who are the words crying for? Who will words always sing for? Who makes words happy and sad? Who once sang a lifetime of concern in classic old songs? Who once said in words like water that wind and rain will always be together? Who made the only agreement in this life in autumn fairy tales?

A wisp of ghosts, sitting on the cold branches, separated the past dreams with clean and quiet Leng Yan. I once told a stupid lie in a rosy dream, closed my eyes and thought I was in heaven. When the hands of the years sharply awakened the sleeping dream, I found that I was still in the same place.

When the carrier of time becomes a disorderly line, problems flash from the distant horizon and fall into broken language and infinite thoughts. Fragmented tenderness, through the reincarnation of the past, was full of secular thorns trap. In the evening wind, unknown thoughts are in the valley, and there is fog all year round.

Tonight, I will write the most beautiful and touching music for you. The lingering vines trapped by the ancient road pushed the tears to the sad corner. Hiding in the hut, listening to the bright sadness and whispers between the lines.

Buddha said: live in the present. However, my slender hands can't hold the fleeting time, so every moment has become history. I really want to go to that long and narrow old street; I really want a ferry to take me to the other side. But I don't know, the other side is bustling with 3 thousand, can there be ferry people in the world of mortals? Qingming Lingtai, the Zen machine of searching up and down, where is the light of rebirth?

You said I looked like the girl who strolled leisurely in the lilac rain lane. I sincerely pray for you on those moonlit edges and on the drizzling road. Happy petals are pure petals, because some of us are dreamy and elegant. You are over in waterinfo. You sing day and night on the waves, and your songs are clear and clear. I followed the song to find you. Are you and I really just separated by a flower?

Knocking on the secular door, one after another, for the sake of the ups and downs of dreams, chasing the breath of sunshine, walked for a long time. Wandering under the surface of fate, watching it occasionally ripple, feeling the wings, pointing out the direction, still looking for you, following all the way with the most fragile memories and the most difficult time.

People around me come and go, and the old songs in my ears are no longer listened to. Through the moonlight outside the window, I looked out and saw the bustling lights all over the street. Is still the world of mortals, traffic, bustling.

I always meditate alone in the dead of night, feeling the emptiness that seems far away. Leave an elegant corner, let the soul stay at your feet, and let the notes of your thoughts ripple in a calm heart. Fold a piece of moonlight for you, lonely heart, sleep outside the moonlight. I don't need any prosperous decorations. I just hope that after many years, I can play with you in harmony, dye the fragrance of my palm in Guli's articles, leave a fragrance and play the last touching chapter for my life.

The rose blooms in the dark, masking all its fragrance. Moonlight waterfall, clear eyes, your soul is close to the pianist in snowy days, and your temptation whispers in your ear. In the season of flowers flying to Wu Ye, you ignited the hidden passion with abundant blood. A gentle whisper, like a ray of sunshine, shines warmly on my cold heart. Looking back suddenly, the beautiful soul sang and sang, listening to the sound of falling flowers and falling branches, all the way through the lonely wind and dust. After many twists and turns, facing the bright wind, I cut Han Mei into a notebook of youth and put it into the classical Book of Songs.

Stand at the tuyere of the years and listen to the ebb and flow of the tide. Meeting in the riverbed of the moon, the second brother opened his noble heart with hereditary honor. My love for you is always quiet, and I always love you between the lines. Every evening, I write poems for you silently with the clear jade water on the shore. Silent fingers stroking the keyboard, grinding a pool of ink for you, recording all the passing plots, one by one, quietly continuing. Eternal love is interpreted in words, past love is colorful in words, and golden brocade is endless in time and space.

The glory of the grass in the sunset outside the window seems to be waiting for an ancient darkness. After the low tide, the rocky beach is like a naked heart.

"a flower has been picked for a long time, but it is reluctant to throw it away when it fades;

An umbrella lasted for a long time and I don't remember when the rain stopped;

A road has been walking for a long time, and it can't go to the end when it gets dark;

I thought for a long time, but I couldn't say it when my heart ached. "

Stroking the strings of the heart, thoughts become water, like a secretly surging wave, and everything has no direction.

Boating in the heart of the sea, who is so obsessed with my words and refuses to leave, becoming the lamp in my sudden look back? Who is so obsessed with my words that I can't bear to go far and become eternal in my words? Who beautifies my words, who sleeps in my heart forever, let me write my words in the moonlight and flow quietly along Luoshui. ...

The red pen is empty and the dream is full of water, and the catkins are snowing every year. The dust of life, back and forth, blowing tirelessly. Clockwise, walk calmly and leave alone. For some time, the weather is still sultry, which makes people feel the length of summer in the south. I don't know that the cold breath is spreading in the north at this time. When the cold wind comes again, the wilderness in the north must have been gradually bleak. Purple sand was soaked in ChristianRandPhillips's tears, and I read Li Sao in my voice. Living in the city, immersed in books and words all day, seems to forget the change and invasion of the season. At first glance, a majestic autumn wind hit the vaguely landing window lattice, and my body seemed to be full of coolness.

The sun spread out into a road. Golden radiation field, the sky is high and the clouds are light, and the wind is weak. The swaying shadow, walking wantonly, in a trance.

This is the day when autumn wind kisses the cool mood. The leaves in front of the house seem to turn yellow overnight, which strongly stimulates the eyes and emotions between the entrance and exit. And I sometimes see a few pieces flying and falling in the air, giving people a rich and desolate taste.

"With empty city, should be idle clock. Just like falling leaves in autumn; Dust is to time; Running water is a reverse journey to rest by the stream. That moment was not for meeting, but for not missing and not being happy. For this moment, I am not afraid to say separation, and whether this separation is true or not, it is far away. Because my heart is irregular, I am not afraid to wait; Because of this waiting, how many seasons of flowers have withered, so I combed my white hair and the years fell. And mountains and water are woven into picturesque scenery at the extreme. In a trance, the mountain is me and the water is you ... "

"Wait for me, but I don't have a dream. The body is already like the canopy in autumn; My heart is pinned on running water. How can I be a dream girl again? "

Chen Luyu, a famous host of Phoenix TV, was recommended by Yang Yang, a famous director of CCTV. China Green Candidate Baby Shi Tianqi's stunning new work in 2008.

Post-80s girls interpret classical poetry in modern language, leading you into a beautiful and fresh world of classical poetry.

Life is like a flower in March, you can see the beginning, but you can't guess the ending.

An easy as.

The beauty and loneliness in the depths of the soul always need a person to experience.

-Annie, baby

The origin and extinction are beyond our control, and the margin is thick and thin. What we can do is to cherish the short time when karma met.

Amy Cheung

abstract

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2008 has passed, and after tasting the pain and being happy, desperate and proud, we bid farewell to this trendy and ups and downs year.

Tianqi, 2 1 year old, tells us that everything here was born on a quiet night. This is a romantic and extravagant thing in itself. Romantic night, extravagant 2 1 year-old, and this writing idea.

All kinds of stories written are foggy stories after all; And the life behind him is a hopeful unknown.

At the age of 2 1, write freely and dream happily. When I wake up, the sun hangs as a curtain, which is another most beautiful time.

Tianqi said in the book that as long as a piece of sugar, it can be sweet for a lifetime.

Life is long, and we all need to smile and taste it. ...

Time is like water, always speechless. If you are well, it will be sunny.

-arraignment?

When I saw this sentence elsewhere, I hesitated for a long time and felt a kind of warmth and emotion inexplicably.

Sometimes a word is worth a thousand words, enough to warm all the desolation and indifference in my heart.

Always wanted to be a quiet walker,

Leave yourself in the deepest part of the world of mortals and keep the original bud and joy.

Or get stuck in the light and shadow, and look through those vague old dreams.

Time is like a glass of still water, which is still deep and can still flow deeply.

But this mood has nothing to do with romance, the water has passed away. ?

Standing at the crossroads of time, I look back at the beauty and gentleness I have passed.

Many people, many things, many desires and longings that used to be flowery,

Still flowing slowly in the long river of years, looking back silently.

Counting each paragraph of emotional words, more or less reveals a touch of melancholy and heaviness.

There is also a kind of unprovoked melancholy and confusion. ?

Reach out my hand, and the water color pours out from my fingers like quicksand, like an enchanting and decisive butterfly.

No matter how tightly you hold your hand, no matter how hard you try to hold the years that have never been desolate in your life,

Youth is like a feast of the whole city, with heavy makeup on the stage and a luxurious and low-key ending.

Those beautiful green plants are still the deepest and truest sweetness and pain in my heart. ?

I often receive phone calls or text messages from my friends when I'm not expecting them.

Don't need too many words, and don't need too many greetings and hypocrisy.

A few faint greetings or blessings can breed countless wonderful and moving people.

Listening to the soft or low voice on the other end of the phone,

Just chatting, knowing that we are all well, and smiling at each other is enough.

Accustomed to such a day, a person, a book, a cup of tea,

Look at all the stories and plots in those faint music.

I know that all the applause and cheers are nothing more than a romantic nothingness.

In the twilight of sunrise and sunset, the flowers bloom silently.

I stayed where I was, waiting for the warmest moment in my life.

Waiting for a pair of hands, holding me gently and happily. ?

Things are complicated and time is always silent.

The so-called obsession may be illusory, and the so-called arrival is just the end.

And youth, how like grand fireworks, is fragile and so easy to fade.

No matter how beautiful and exquisite it is, it is just a glimpse.

How can the past blowing in the wind be carved like running water?

Looking back a thousand times, I still can't remember the past years.

No matter how big the vanity is, no matter how complicated it is, it will eventually return to truth and plain.

And you and I haven't had time to lay a good foundation for ourselves and set a good direction for ourselves.

Thorns and setbacks broke out and drove us to the wall.

Just wait for the empty flowers to sigh, desolate and salvage the unfinished memories with the moonlight.

Endless, endless world of mortals.

Only one trip can change an understanding, and only one trip can change an experience, that's all. ?

Like quicksand in the palm of your hand, you can't hold the charm and coldness, and you can't hold your fingertips and die.

I like to say "fireworks can't be cut" silently, and I like this extreme depression.

Just a few words, people are full of desolation and loneliness.

I am not a person who is good at expressing feelings and thoughts, and I will not pile up words with a lot of paper.

I am just bright and sad, clear as water. ?

Sigh that there used to be so many light flowers,

Now there are only half a sigh and memories left, which accidentally messed up yesterday's eyes.

Look in the mirror and count your temples.

Suddenly, I was shocked, and time passed in silent silence.

In a flash, my heart was tangled and overgrown with weeds.

But I finally know, understand, is still a constant existence.

It doesn't matter whether you come or not. ?

Perhaps only words can dispel the biggest confusion and flooding in my heart.

Or maybe everything is meant to be.

I let myself drift across the lonely river, and I also let myself cross the rust.

Have a silent and sharp dialogue in the name of poetry.

Dusk is heavy, memories are mottled, and the fragrance is still there. ?

Life is a one-act play with very similar plots.

And I, just in other people's stories,

Capture your own feelings and feel the joys and sorrows of others.

When silent memories and support,

Into a small touch, into my inner enrichment and enrichment,

Rolling in the world of mortals, who is the spectator and passer-by in whose life?

When we were young, we always liked to pretend to be lofty and mature.

I like to think of myself as the eyes behind floating life.

With a thorough understanding of everything, I looked down at all the ukiyo-e paintings coldly and calmly.

But I can't smile and ask for a little wisdom.

Any triviality and vulgarity can easily defeat me.

To restore life itself, my smallness and humbleness are not worth mentioning.

Only the deepest desire of the soul,

Like a firefly, the faint light guides me all the way. ?

Life is too shallow, and this river and lake is deep.

After the initial vague mark, some people and things are destined to get lost in the running water.

Outside the window, it is a time of big flowers, dazzling away.

In the window, there is a feeling of loss, standing in the breeze.

Pushing open a door called years, many years have finally been gradually stranded.

And you, always the light and shadow in the diagonal lattice,

Wandering on the edge of dream and reality.

If I can reverse the silence behind nonsense and slap the wrinkles of the years,

Check the fragments of memory together and smear your fingertips with warmth.

Then the sky in September will definitely become pure and clean.

It will definitely make all the thoughts fly in an instant and the seasons go back and forth.

If time is locked in lush green, dragging Leng Yue clear autumn,

With such a weak water, who will get you drunk except the world of mortals? ?

In this world, no road is repeated.

Just like loneliness, just like memories, just like some days, some people will still become the direction of attention.

However, the wind has slackened, and the tattoo has left a dark wound, which hurts like yesterday.

I always believed,

Some injuries can't be erased, some memories can't be erased, and some people can't let go.

Even if I sit here thinking about you at the moment, or one day I leave you,

I will take root in your world with love and hope. ?

In this life, you have a good life, which is sunny.

the other day

-Cangyang Jiacuo

On that day,

I closed my eyes and was in the fragrant fog of the temple.

I suddenly heard the truth in your hymn;

In January of that year,

I shake all the curved pipes,

Not to cross over,

Just to touch your fingertips;

That year,

Kowtow and climb the mountain,

Not for the audience,

Just to stick to your warmth;

At that time,

Put mountains, water and pagodas,

Not for the afterlife,

Just to meet you on the road.

In January of that year,

I gently turned all the curved pipes,

Not to cross, just to touch your fingerprints;

That year, I kowtowed and embraced the dust.

Not to worship Buddha, just to stick to your warmth;

At that time, I searched hundreds of mountains,

Not to repair the afterlife, just to meet you on the road;

It's just that that night, I forgot everything,

Abandoned faith, abandoned reincarnation,

Just for the rose that once cried in front of the Buddha,

Has long lost its former glory.

See and not see

-Cangyang Jiacuo

Have you seen me?

I was there.

Not sad or happy.

You can either read me or you can't read me.

Love is there.

Don't come or go.

Do you love me or not?

Love is there.

Neither increasing nor decreasing.

Are you with me or not?

My hand is in your hand.

Never give up.

Come into my arms.

or

Let me live in your heart

Silent love

Silence and happiness