Half corridor flower garden moon, a hat Willow Bridge Wind
"Half corridor flower garden moon, a hat Willow Bridge Wind", the moon star is bright, the fragrance of flowers is overflowing, and the willow bridge wind is blowing. On the independence bridge, how many flowers bloom in the dream, and how many flowers fall in the dream?
"I remember when I was young, you loved to talk and I loved to laugh. Once we sat side by side under the peach tree, the wind was blowing in the forest, the birds were singing, and we didn't know how to sleep..."
Warm memories, wet memories, are inadvertently aroused by us in the branches of the years, and they will also provoke us to stay a little at a certain time and place, in a daze.
It's just that some of us don't know, those are still in time, and those are not yet in time. The missed fate, the missed thing called love, is just that we don't know what's still coming and what's not yet coming; It's too late to go far. It's just that we don't know. We haven't got enough time
Therefore, like those stories, streams of water flow away and never come back, because we know that it is too late for her. But Xu Xu's story seems to disturb the clouds and scatter the moon. Just for a moment, there was no trace, no season, just like the occasional crying when we parted, and the soft voice when we met difficulties said to ourselves again and again not to give up, because we know that we still have time for these.
Maybe it's difficult to say too much. After being silent for a long time, it seems that people are depressed... So when we learn how to love a person and do a thing well, it is too late for that person and thing to tell us, and they have long gone.
Time does not wait, time does not wait. Looking back, looking back again, in addition to the silent pain, there are more inexplicable sadness, inexplicable sadness that cannot be said or unwilling to say, just because it is too late.
The wings of youth cut through the painful memory. Yesterday's tears have already splashed the ripples in my heart. Perhaps, my eyes are raining for you, but my heart is willing to cover your umbrella.
We are not the actors, and we do not need to live in this world. That cold human heart, that cold human nature. Will it be "half corridor flower garden moon, a hat Willow Bridge Wind"?
Occasionally, I would like to make a cup of tea, play a light music, melt myself unreservedly in the curling fragrance and melodious music, and taste the warmth and moving unique to that music and tea fragrance. If you are tired, take a rest; If you think about it, just read it for a while; Tired, just relax for a moment... Fate comes, warmth comes, fate scatters, but soul scatters. Walk through the bright legacy, which is the most beautiful purples in your memory?
Will the years of staring, the people of obsession, the lost time and the lost people be in the depth of time, cold and light in the clouds and smoke of the past, and warm in the lines of the palm of your hand?
Still water flows deep, Zhuo ran seeks a kind of happiness. Perhaps, those who know me are worried, and those who don't know me are asking for something? I don't want to be as I want, but I want to be worthy of my heart.
So for those so-called short lives, is it still necessary to ask "how many flowers bloom in dreams"? Because those feelings, those exclamations, are only once, just the "half corridor garden moon, a hat Willow Bridge Wind".
"I remember when I was young, you loved to talk and I loved to laugh. Once we sat side by side under the peach tree, the wind was blowing in the forest, the birds were singing, and we didn't know how to sleep..."
Warm memories, wet memories, are inadvertently aroused by us in the branches of the years, and they will also provoke us to stay a little at a certain time and place, in a daze.
It's just that some of us don't know, those are still in time, and those are not yet in time. The missed fate, the missed thing called love, is just that we don't know what's still coming and what's not yet coming; It's too late to go far. It's just that we don't know. We haven't got enough time
Therefore, like those stories, streams of water flow away and never come back, because we know that it is too late for her. But Xu Xu's story seems to disturb the clouds and scatter the moon. Just for a moment, there was no trace, no season, just like the occasional crying when we parted, and the soft voice when we met difficulties said to ourselves again and again not to give up, because we know that we still have time for these.
Maybe it's difficult to say too much. After being silent for a long time, it seems that people are depressed... So when we learn how to love a person and do a thing well, it is too late for that person and thing to tell us, and they have long gone.
Time does not wait, time does not wait. Looking back, looking back again, in addition to the silent pain, there are more inexplicable sadness, inexplicable sadness that cannot be said or unwilling to say, just because it is too late.
The wings of youth cut through the painful memory. Yesterday's tears have already splashed the ripples in my heart. Perhaps, my eyes are raining for you, but my heart is willing to cover your umbrella.
We are not the actors, and we do not need to live in this world. That cold human heart, that cold human nature. Will it be "half corridor flower garden moon, a hat Willow Bridge Wind"?
Occasionally, I would like to make a cup of tea, play a light music, melt myself unreservedly in the curling fragrance and melodious music, and taste the warmth and moving unique to that music and tea fragrance. If you are tired, take a rest; If you think about it, just read it for a while; Tired, just relax for a moment... Fate comes, warmth comes, fate scatters, but soul scatters. Walk through the bright legacy, which is the most beautiful purples in your memory?
Will the years of staring, the people of obsession, the lost time and the lost people be in the depth of time, cold and light in the clouds and smoke of the past, and warm in the lines of the palm of your hand?
Still water flows deep, Zhuo ran seeks a kind of happiness. Perhaps, those who know me are worried, and those who don't know me are asking for something? I don't want to be as I want, but I want to be worthy of my heart.
So for those so-called short lives, is it still necessary to ask "how many flowers bloom in dreams"? Because those feelings, those exclamations, are only once, just the "half corridor garden moon, a hat Willow Bridge Wind".