There are flowers and sleepless people. Whispering through a window

Sitting at noon, the wind is blowing all the time. The dusk of millions of years ago will also be blown down.

Although the sadness that I can't remember has gone with the wind, the face that I can't remember is shown in my memory. The capture is a static picture. The next minute, the sea changes into mulberry fields!

Looking back, the clouds of the past have dispersed! The setting sun is red in the distance. The tiny flowers close quietly. I can't bear to disturb the peace at this time. I don't know where the road under my feet will extend

I don't know how many thousands of years of reincarnation can make me born in this world of flowers! But in the vagueness of the dream, I heard that this is a world that can not stay too long! Is this the most beautiful regret? Or is it the rush that flies away? The answer may be simple and complex, just like the passengers passing across the bridge, you go, he comes!

Sometimes, look back and smile, sometimes, be silent! I can only hear the voice of the returning Qiantang Yan hovering in the West Lake, and the shadows are gradually thinner, as if they are raising clouds in the water, one after another clear without a trace.

I believe that this summer evening we are the two young people in that nursery rhyme. I hope you are the man riding the bamboo horse. At that time, you were passing my four seasons, just like a dragonfly flying across the pond.

In ancient books, it is often said that she was dressing alone in front of the mirror. The rouge was light, the green skirt was folded lightly, and there was a heavy sense of separation and hatred.

Miss is always inadvertently tossing and turning, falling on the unfinished letterhead hesitate! This is the time of cardamom, but there are many sorrows. I have to ask: Will Shoujun come now? Is your relationship with you long? Last night, the peach blossoms inserted obliquely in the bottle were still smiling. Today, they all bowed their heads. The red and white corpses hang branches. Who will accept them and who will pity them?

Therefore, turning over is another sleepless night.

Looking back at the wind from the south to the north and counting the love flowers that need not be broken, I leaned on the moss of the stone fence, and warmed a room, a door, and a window with light rain.

Promise me, don't be sad in the poem. We don't want such love. Promise me, when you cross the north, we will plant two kinds of sunflowers behind the house, one big and one small. Look up and see them blooming and smiling towards the sun.

I long to be the thin winged butterfly beside your lips after reincarnation, dancing in front of the flowers you loved. bright moon. cool breeze. The fragrance of flowers.

At this time, you should run along your warm breath. But the road you have given me is too long, and my lifelong infatuation still cannot reach your gentle and clean fingertips.

Maybe one day. I can awaken your yearning for me with your bitter heart in your fingers.

You said that there will always be one person with me in this world. It is not a day or a month, but a lifetime. Therefore, we can not cut the candles in the west window every day, but we also grow old slowly. The sunset outside the window is several degrees, and the rosy faces in the window are changing. When we look at each other and smile, we have already passed, plain but true.

You see, the fine flowers blooming on the fence of the old year also return along the way of the sky that the wind has passed, to meet our white hair.

You see, every tree, every flower, every cloud has called out my name and makeup for you.

You see, the evening light is already out of the slanting clouds, and the dusk, which has not become thick, is creeping around me. Frog singing also began to come as promised. In such a sleepless moonlit night, can you do a good job of listening? Come to my side and gently, gently shake the fragrant wheat fan and listen to my whispers

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