Everything you think about is safe, and everything you wish for is calm. May you see the world with a pure heart and develop feelings with a normal heart.

You are a flower blooming, a piece of Jiangnan ink painting, like a sheet of snow, reflecting the white moonlight; like a piece of incense, the fragrance of time, the fragrance of the past.

You are the sorrow of poetry, the sorrow of half moonlight, looking at each other alone with a person, a past event, a brush of flowers and grass, a brush of quiet fragrance, a plain shadow on paper, and a line of time.

After a period of writing in a riot of purple and red, I write about grass, trees, flowers and the moon, and write about the human world. A certain word or a certain image brings a lingering beauty.

Endow the countless loneliness with the fleeting time, the rice paper is ink, the grass is smoked and the wind is warm, and I look at the old things of the Six Dynasties, the morning is exposed, the evening is rained, sit quietly in front of the court.

In the days, there is the romance of spring, the tenderness of a group of flower shadows, the scattered lotus in the pond, the sadness of listening to the rain in the small building, the affection of the bright moon, and the regret of returning home under the colorful clouds. .

There is the peace and beauty of 4:30 in the morning, when the begonia flowers are still awake, and there is food everywhere, but it is just a bowl of human fireworks.

The boy has grown up and has forgotten the poet and the reed flute. He occasionally longs for the wilderness in his heart, but the wind is no longer there.

Those people and things that have gone far away, and the feelings of those young people, are getting farther and lighter day by day, but when people look back, they are full of warmth.

Those things that are about to come, those faint longings, are spring water as green as blue, with knitted reflections on the water, always ripples step by step, stirring up your thoughts.

Stability in daily life, joy in time

Life should be a quiet and lively city, where old people live, the past lives, and the peach blossom faces of last year live , living in the old age, they are happy and peaceful in the city.

Go through daily life slowly with a happy heart, face impermanent things with a normal heart, and look at the world with a soft heart.

Being indifferent means that the heart is here, which is the heaven and the earth. The peace of mind is the destination. It is not too extravagant and it is not too entangled.

To be enthusiastic is to do your best to bloom. No matter in spring or winter, your heart is happy, the greenery is on the branches, your eyebrows are smiling, and you live up to every inch of time you have.

Therefore, in every ordinary day, you have to believe that every plant and tree is the scenery of your life, every wind and every month is the calendar of your time, and every thought is the calendar of your time. The weather within you.

Therefore, in every ordinary day, you have to believe that there are always people who will move the shadows of flowers onto your plain paper under the deep white clouds and the leisurely windows; there will always be people who will turn your thoughts into ink. When you are sad and dazed, write on your eyebrows.

I was originally a laid-back person in the Sophora Flower Courtyard, full of alcohol, sitting by the small pond watching fish, and living my life with fireworks on my eyebrows.

With eyebrows raised like fireworks, I walk with my poems. In the aging years, I write with ink, one stroke of spring water, one stroke of summer shower, one stroke of thin autumn moon, and one stroke of winter snow. cold.

Everything you think about is safe, and everything you wish for is calm

Jian Yu: Mountains and rivers are like unwinding articles. The sun and the moon hold the lamp for you to read with you. You are tired of reading poetry and books, and you are tired of walking around in scenery. You leave home and forget the old road again. This is a firewood hut here and now, whoever enters the door makes the decision.

Life is like boiling a pot of moonlight, drunk with joy and sadness; life is a simple time, a tea, a fragrance, a poetic passage, an ink, and a piece of paper.

Please use your warm hands to hold the wind, the white lines of poetry, the affection of three thousand poems, and the innocent past.

Please paint your eyebrows and eyes with good wishes, draw a smile, draw the beauty of meeting and falling apart, and draw the story of falling in love and separation.

Please be comfortable and look at each other, please be comfortable and love each other.

I step on the rhymes of fleeting time, I read the affectionate sentences of time, I caress the lines of white snow, and I knock on the door of spring. In the long years, I hope that you and I will be good people. All my thoughts are peaceful and all my wishes are calm.

Look at the world with a pure heart, and create emotions with a normal heart

After walking through a life of high mountains and long waters, time has filled the earth with worries about solar terms.

At the beginning of spring, the grass is green, smoke and willows are forming, I read a line of peach blossoms, I read a line of flower streams, the wind carries flower letters, and the signature is your name.

The clear snow breaks during the Qingming Festival, and I am happy with my buds. The scenery is infinite, and the youth is extremely light. It is the coolness of pear blossoms, the youthfulness of peach blossoms, and the shadow of apricot blossoms.

Make tea in Grain Rain, the season of beautiful flowers, a branch of beautiful flowers, a thousand hearts, every bloom is a glimpse of the fragrant capital.

At the beginning of summer, roses pass through my city. The fourteen-line love letter contains the sentiment of mint green and the thoughts of the green radish skirt.

The white dew is waiting to be married, and the light is cool on the street. A leaf falls, a poem falls, and the autumn light is slowly completed, and the plain moon is in the mountains.

At the winter solstice, the sun sets on Cangshan Mountain, and the sky is covered with white. The years are filled with white snow as a poem, leaving the last signature. The moonlight falls on my left hand, and I keep my thoughts secret.

Who can pity the iron horse of time? We are no longer the same as before. On the rice paper of the years, the ink is old, the time is thin, a breeze is sent, and the moonlight is still the same person.

One day, in our twilight years, you and I sit quietly in front of the court, admiring the flowers and falling flowers, laughing and talking about life and the passing of time. Then with our vicissitudes of life, we open a page of rainy lanes and read the wet lines of poetry.

Life is full of ups and downs, joys and sorrows can be overcome by oneself. Crossing oneself is a kind of wisdom, crossing the mind is a kind of practice.

Full inward, write your clear eyes and charming thoughts into the buds of spring, into a line of poetry that grows old as soon as you pick up the pen, and into the stream that slowly flows through the years.

Take everything lightly and let everything happen, kneading Suxi's daily life into the texture of the years and weaving it into pieces of good time.