Composition: My view on Mengcheng incident is 800 words.

The misty waves are vast, and the ups and downs of the flood season make the emptiness in the depths of the soul splash freely. The rainbow at dawn bears the beautiful encounter in the dream, ebbs and flows, and the seasons change. It deduces the earthly romance in the ocean of the mind, and the rhythm of the mind navigates the distant and vast mind. generate's passion is a collection of repressed personality publicity, showing deep affection and trembling heart.

When the wind and rain hit, I sincerely believe in the beautiful waiting, with all kinds of tenderness and interest, looking forward to the fading autumn colors. Autumn wind slowly took away the swaying rose petals, transparent feelings, graceful on the little purples of winter, took away the trajectory of life, like nostalgia, like regret, like souls without commitment in each other's hearts, dancing alone in the cold wind and pestering the past.

Pushing open the happy window, I feel a sense of sadness and frost, pure and silly shyness, holding the crescent moon hanging in the heart of the sea, feeling the "dusk like snow" in the quiet night, moving forward cautiously, intricately and deeply, flowing at my fingertips with the broken footsteps of the season, ringing with twists and turns, and the sweet sadness carved with deep affection, stretching a little, stringing together those drifts.

Tender feelings are like fire, whispering thoughts are like the wind!

Close your eyes, hold hands in the dream, and taste the sincerity of the heartstrings. The swaying rose petals seem to be playing the little purples in the cold wind, and my heart is full of pity!

I don't know what I was thinking.

Clouds are tired and thin, and bloom always feels sad. Especially in this season, the leaves and petals falling on the stone road are like a meaningful painting. Walking on the colorful fallen land, slow down and feel gently, and the faint earthy breath is slightly released around you, and you are deeply addicted unconsciously.

Unlike the cloudy days a few days ago, I looked up and saw that the distant castle peak trees were still in the mist, which was particularly vague and illusory. I think of my childhood adventures and the so-called Shenxian Cave I met. As soon as you turn around, time is gone. The slowly flowing river is not as turbulent as summer. It gently beats the rocks to say goodbye to this season. The wind is a little cold, but it doesn't feel cold.

I still chose the location by the river and ordered ice cream. I like eating ice cream in cold weather. My friend stirred my latte and said with a smile that I was partial. I don't think we have that praise, so we won't fall in love with the sound of tearing silk.

There are blooming white flowers in the flowerpot in the corner, so pick them at will. A little dew is attached to the petals, crystal clear, like the purity of an angel. Several people who had just come to drink tea after swimming in the morning saw it and shouted to us, "Don't pick wild flowers on the roadside." We laughed, too. "This is a family flower. You can pick it." In this lingering season, but it was a beautiful morning, all the people present were treated with one voice.

This is a small but simple and beautiful place. The surging river is accompanied by islands for people to cultivate. The quaint mountains and forests cultivate people's temperament of living and working in peace and contentment. The lingering snacks attracted people from all walks of life. The salary is not high, but they can make ends meet. The natural geographical environment can enjoy the beauty endowed by nature. If there is no vanity, it is a city that is very suitable for contented people to live at home.

The wheels on the river haven't started yet, only a few vague fishing boats are floating in the distance, undulating on the railing with friends, tearing off petals one by one and throwing them into the river. The flowing river brings the petals far away with the morning breeze, and the lines are pleasing to the eye with the folded waves.

There are wild ducks swimming around, looking at the petals that have faded with the river, and my heart is inexplicably disappointed. I really shouldn't have torn off the petals and thrown them into the water. It's also painful to separate one by one. I enjoyed the beauty of this moment, but left tears in my heart. Friends often say that I should have been born in ancient times, so there may really be no heaven for me to feel. I think this is human weakness.

Xi Murong once said: "The rotation of the four seasons always evokes a feeling of special yearning." In this coming season, all I miss is that touch of purity. I just don't know exactly where I will stop. Those true and pure friendships when I was young are still very old, but I have distant sadness and memories in my heart. With the evening breeze coming slowly, the days are too long, as if I have forgotten, and there are more beautiful hearts.

Inlaid harp

I want to know why my Jinse has fifty strings, and each string has a youthful interval.

Zhuangzi daydreaming, a saint, was bewitched by butterflies, and cuckoo crowed in the imperial spring.

On warm days, smoke rises, mermaids shed pearl-like tears, the moon-green sea and lantian jade.

A moment that should last forever has come and gone before I know it.

-"Jinse"

Text/the saddest wind

Prosperity, lovesickness and tears. Travel all over the world, Qian Shan dusk, when to see you again?

Playing the harp, the harp, the sound keeps ringing. Looking for years, emptying the sea, who knows that I am leaving.

It takes more than a year to sigh the countless strings of the golden harp. Let's look at time and human feelings. Is the so-called Iraqi still on the water side? A beautiful woman, Jinse, hates the years. She has thought about it for a long time. But as time goes by, where is the beauty? She has been turning into a butterfly and flying vividly. She doesn't remember who she is, but she wakes up from a dream. She was originally Zhuang Zhou, but who is she?

Recalling the past, the bustling scenery; The voice is complex and melancholy, and many memories are filled with emotion for a moment.

The moon is as bright as a pearl, hanging high in the sky; Jade is like the sun, shining all over the world. At this time, today's feelings are unbearable.

When those lost years left us with only a small back, when hazy emotions floated like the wind, we could only look back with bare hands.

Hate what? Hate wasting that short time of youth?

Complain about what? Complaining that the indifference of the world has obliterated that precious touch?

After drinking a bowl of turbid wine, everything was unbearable. Hated or resented, it was a sigh, leaving the warehouse alone to shine at dusk. I hate myself so much and blame myself for being so confused and infatuated.

Are Iraqis still addicted to the long piano sound when dancing lightly?

It rhymes for a long time. Where is the tea floating? Am I still waiting for nothingness with only lingering sound and no original works?

The clouds are light and the wind is light, and turn away; There is no trace of autumn wind, leaving only undertaker. Among the many spectators, some are happy and some are sad. "Last night, the wind and rain were coming, and the curtain rustled in autumn. Residual leakage, a candle, dripped frequently on the pillow, which made me unable to sit up. Things flow with water, so this is a dream. The road to drunkenness is stable and suitable, and besides, it is unbearable. " A song called midnight crow sang my heart.

No matter how beautifully decorated the pipa is, it can't last a few faint sorrows in my hands. The lost years have been sealed, lost in the vast sea, and can never be found again. In the crisp sound of the harp, I miss my best Spring Festival. The strings and columns on the golden harp are like the course of my life, and you have encroached on my memory. So, as long as the song of life is still ringing, your string will eventually.

Looking at the railing, its moments of beauty are sandwiched with beauty. The faint wail between fingers is still echoing;

Misty rain platform, Jinse sings the past. The thoughts in my heart still spread on that string.

Even the beautiful sound of a broken jade can't compare with the gentle sound of you supporting the piano for me. The past in the world of mortals is unbearable. You missed it, but you still wrote the most beautiful song in my life.