01. Love is as deep as an orchid, how can it be like a clear and light dream? Sitting through the window, I could only see the green clothes but no clothes. The flowers are not flowers, the fog is not fog, and the dusty and fragrant road is burned out in January. The clear cold flattens the falling snow and dances, and grinds it into earth with every frown and smile. The frost blows through the years and the wind stains the eyes, and the half-flute Qiang bamboo flowers fill the building. The fragrance of tea is still there year after year, the taste is clear, the jade hands are washed, and the shadows of beads fall on the cold sleeves. The moon sets on the flat lake and I am idle and worried, biting off the flower shadows and cherishing the ink. I want to fly lightly, chased by the drizzle, and the green light is thin intermittently.

02. Acacia is as short as a red flute, as long as a lifetime. The snowy field is vast, but pure and white. My thoughts are burning, but there is only endless pain. Every inch is filled with sadness, and layers of idleness leak out of my eyes. Fragrant branches hang on the branches to enjoy the scorching sun, and the moon is fragrant all the way while drunk with love.

03. The sleeves are filled with fragrance, and the fragrance fills the west building. It is another year when hundreds of flowers are ashamed, and the peach forest is full of drunkenness and elegance. Can the beauty remain the same? The rain is passing through the canyon, and the butterflies are fragrant. Life is full of joy and sorrow, a good drama and a good dream!

04. The clear zither is playing in the blue stream, under the green frame, the snow is falling quietly and the fragrance is far away. The blue bird holds the spring mud in its mouth, paving the way for someone's thoughts. Layers of thoughts are formed, and the pearls and jade are gently folded around the fingertips. But one glance is short, and we miss each other forever. The embankment is built with clouds, the sand is at the fingertips, the flowers are flying at the corners of the eaves, and the characters are condensed into orchids and the red dust is warm. As soon as I think of it, thousands of rivers and mountains come together, and I give it to you with all my heart, thinking about it day and night!

05. The rain makes the plantains fat, and the frost makes the autumn chrysanthemums thin. The green peaks are beautiful, and the clear water surrounds the beautiful buildings. The graceful song follows the breeze, and the eyes smile with tears. If you have a small boat, you can enjoy the beauty of thousands of rivers. 06. The water is red, the purple bamboo is new, the soup is autumn, where are the flowers flying? Thinking of how close we are, we can feel the love of the world on our shoulders. I have spent three lifetimes of tenderness in exchange for your beautiful smile that I picked up in the morning and evening. In the next reincarnation, I only want to meet you again. *** This mountain has long waters and wide waters, and the sky is blue and the moon is blue.

07. The plain paper is fragrantly dyed, with sparse shadows of apricot flowers. The wind suddenly picked up and stirred up a pool of spring water. The heart is like ripples, for whom the love arises, the flowers are beautiful, and the fragrance of flowers fills the clothes. Love is like the flowering period, how can we lock in the deep feeling of spring?

08. Lightly unfold the plain paper, and let the haggard pen write the thinning moon. The melancholy that all the sails have passed is nothing, the love is speechless, and the thoughts are silent. The moon enters the window and falls into my eyes. I sigh alone and sing to myself. Do I understand your loneliness? Do I pity your suffering? The leaves are relaxed, the heart is warm, and I am always thinking about it in and out of dreams. Don't say it's hard to calm down, the sun and the moon are both proud!

09. Hatred of you is not like the wind blowing in front of your ears, cutting green ripples, leaving you with a strong sense of spring. Hear the birds chirping, smell the orchid dreams, and see the clear springs and green pines lying on the rocks. The red is warm and the fragrance is cold. Who understands the dawn? ***Hate for you is just like the wind in the hall, with several warmth and countless softness, delivered to the dusk clouds and morning bells. Dancing in the shadow of the moon, living in the autumn trees, my tears are in vain and the sky is misty. The wind invaded the chrysanthemums, and the frost dyed the osmanthus fat, and the catkins flew away without a trace.

10. Lower your head to pick up lotus seeds, the lotus pond is as clear as water. Wherever the faint fragrance comes, there is only the green flowers. Infinite thoughts are written on red paper, and who is a little condensed smoke bomb with? The skirt cover is folded, the clear lotus comes out, the moon waxes and wanes, the flowers fly with the rain, who is drunk with half a beautiful lamp? The moon sets in the west tower, smoke piles up in the lotus pond, who has missed whose tearful eyes? A cup of residual tea is full of friendship, and I have never stopped thinking about it a hundred times. I saw lotus skirts flying again, and the only person admiring the lotuses in the misty green mist! Mountains and rivers turn, broken dreams turn into sorrow, and the half-moon glass is missing every night. If you bloom, the breeze will come.

11. Falling red for several times, with a faint smile and a gentle poem, the same beautiful face, the shadow of the cold plum blossoms, wandering alone in the forest, lingering on the water, the cold moon makes it difficult to sleep, and I can't imitate the beauty of thousands of people. If so, fate is over, when will the flowers spring? Long songs and short poems fill the pond with the fragrance of ink. The catkins are flying in the air, and the heart is light, and the red is falling late again.

12. The flowers are blooming, lying alone on the blue stream, the red color continues, the ice strings are thick and urgent, the exquisite old dreams come late, and the plain silk is dripping with tears, how can I count the plum rain in detail? Smoke locks, moon shadow and rain cover the building, and through the shallow eyes, the prosperity adds to the sorrow. The sound of the flute is choked, the rhyme of the flute is quiet, the plum blossoms are falling in the deep snow, who embroiders it? The lonely and enchanting ice wheel, the cold plum blossoms linger in the dust, the sound is slow, the wind passes by the traceless green banks, every inch of lovesickness grows!

13. The purple butterfly tree is stained with spring red and mud, and the catkins are covered with dew and smoke. The sound of sorrow breaks the heart of the lake. Staying up all night, hateful love leaves the bitterness, hurting the moon king is still crossing. Yesterday the world was just around the corner, and tonight the flower buds are secretly missing each other.

14. The plum blossoms turn into plain clothes and the snow is transformed into clothes, two parts of fairy beauty and eight parts of fragrance. The wind and frost secretly stain the youth, turning the three thousand lingerie white, and turning half the purple shirt cold. Every step is swaying, every dream is like a long sigh, who pities the subtle charm that can turn around a hundred times? Why not hold a long pole, get on the orchid boat alone, and let yourself learn to ferry in the sea of ????the world, even if you sit upright on the rock to fish for those who wish, and you lie drunk and the flowers invade your clothes at the end of the month.

15. Life is just a passer-by, why bother with thousands of knots? In the past, all kinds of reflections were reflected in the green water, but now they are reflected in the pavilions and pavilions. If they know each other but don't know each other, it's hard for bananas to show lilac knots.

While talking and laughing, the wind is gentle and the clouds are light, the epiphyllums are stunning, and by the misty rain lake, there is the fragrant Orchid Pavilion.

16. The prosperous dream, looking at the spring city without flying flowers, the remaining red weeping at night rain, breaking the heart into pieces. The obsession is long, even after thousands of sorrows are over, I am still lonely. Xiaoxiang embroiders the mottled bamboos, and it is difficult to send the old snow notes. The passing water leaves no trace, the flowers are as beautiful today as they were in the evening; autumn is red and cool, the moon moves the shadows of flowers and drinks alone in the stream. As soon as your long sleeves dance, my world will be in chaos.

17. The flying flowers and the fragrant moon are charming, and the beauties are flying far away. Burn a petal of plain paper, dye a finger with light ink, and smile at the beautiful woman who has the same flowers every year, and the spring breeze is still bright every year! The love is deep, the meaning is long, the wind is full of love and the water is full of laughter, I am so drunk that I don’t know the way back...

18. Time is like a river, how much tranquility does the wave pass by? Chunhui pulse pulse, how many beauty has faded? The random catkins fly away, and the cloud shadows are graceful. A person is as light as clear water, his heart is as light as a white lotus, the maple dew and cinnamon are as light as a stream...

19. A petal of Su Rui grinds ink like crazy, and for whom is the mess of flocculation not enough? The red fades away the fragrant fragrance, so don’t complain about the short spring and long summer. When the beautiful flowers are near the water, I use the moon to water my sorrowful place, and the green mountains melt into each other bit by bit.

20. The green mountains and flowers are about to burn, and every sentence of lovesickness is melancholy. Where does sorrow come from? It leaves people's hearts in misty autumn. Pear blossom moon, plum blossom snow, who can understand the water and clouds in my heart. One bank is covered with red, half of the river is blurred, and spring is in full swing. Paint a round moon like a dream, paint a wing like a butterfly with a flower heart, paint a lotus with a clear and faint sound, but in the end it is difficult to paint you with a smile like water. The not-so-distant distance is the best time to look back and be drunk. If sadness comes, I hope you and I are not there!

21. The clouds are in the blue sky, the water is in the bottle, and the love falls in the purple bamboo and the rhyme falls in the heart. The smoke cages the cold water and the moon cages the sand, and the mist locks the fragrance and beauty in the ice.

22. Youzhu sits and listens to drunkenness, and Lin Shen returns home tired at night. The floating thread reflects the gurgling stream, and the snow gently weeps.

23. Listen to the new rain in the secluded and tender bamboo, and listen to the clear music composed by Lan Xinsu. It is hard to collect all the fragrance of Baiyan, and together they form a rhyme and the flowers are all over the ground.

24. The flying flowers and the sweet wind adorn the clouds, and the flowing clouds and jade in the palace are exquisite. The beautiful woman talks gracefully a thousand times, and she still paints a rainbow while leaning against the railing and facing the window.

25. In the dream, the snow is flying in the spring style, and the acacia leaves turn green into a lake. Borrowing half a pond of wine to forget love, the sorrow in this life will no longer be bitter.

26. The Zen heart of clouds and water dances on the pine waves, and the breeze allows me to walk step by step. The green bamboos are dripping green at the dawn of spring, and the fishing boats are singing the tender love of late family members.

27. The dragon walks freely in the world, and from then on there is another arrogant person around him. The flowers bloom and fall, and the flowers bloom and fall. I smile at the fragrance of the pistils every day.

28. The green silk hanging from the willow bank is full of three thousand lovesickness words. The flying flowers and fairy flowers are telling the secrets of infinite snow.

29. The moonlight over the city fills the snowy wilderness, and half of the desert is soaked in blood. I saw the wisteria smiling at the vanilla again, and there was a sound of love-hungry knot.

30. There are thousands of flowers and trees in the streets, picking up the mist from the sky to the earth. The cold dew hazes the pale glass heart, and the mist and rain are drifting in the breeze.

31. The fallen flowers are colorful and the wind and frost have passed, and the flowers are flying with the butterflies, and the heart is lonely. The flowing clouds are watching the harps competing for the crossing at dawn, and the water and the meadow are catching the rain.

32. A lake of mist and rain falls between the eyebrows, and life looks like a dancing butterfly. An Neng can win flowers and sleeves, which are called fragrant pillows and wind and snow curtains.

33. Lightly remove the fallen red and gather the spring breeze, and dance around the peach forest without leaving a trace. The flying willows pass over the soft blue waves, raising thousands of layers of inner lake dreams.

34. White chrysanthemums are like frost and snow falling, and morning dew wets the pistil flowers with their own fragrance. The sun is drunk and makes you charming, so that the lotus pond wears cool makeup.

35. Morning love makes the breeze sound ethereal, bells dance and the sunset is gorgeous. In the evening, I go into the stream and smell the bamboo wind, and the drum washes the blue river and the quiet forest.

36. The moon is silent, the stars are staring at the wind, and the flying red catkins are dotted with spring sorrow. I can catch all the snow from thousands of mountains with one bucket, and I will never laugh at the thin pear blossoms again.

37. The flowers bloom silently and the stamens are fragrant, and the frost on the temples is swept away in autumn. Don’t mourn when the leaves of Qian Lin are fading. Zi Mo will smile brightly in the coming year.

38. Looking back at the blue lotus floating in the rain, looking back at the curtain of red flowers all over the ground. The most heartless thing in the world, smoke, willows, and ink mountains are still green.

39. The glistening night sky dances with the wind, and the ink flowers swim through the lonely Zhu. Three thousand thin and beautiful words have no place in the world to arrange them.

40. The breeze can’t sweep away all the hatred, and the jade flute comes in late and gently lulls you into sleep. The morning mist weaves a silver belt, and silently sings to light the heart lamp.

41. The jade flute sobs to itself as there is no wind to play the strings. The dancing is full of flowers, and the leisurely sorrow is endless.

The broken bridge is covered with snow, the broken chapter is wading, and the flowers are drunk. I asked the bluebird, where can I embroider the lotus?

42. It is raining heavily at the end of Liwu. Rouge snow, purple clouds pile. The vast smoke waves are as bright as the eye can see thousands of miles away.

The mountains and rivers of spring and autumn flow between them, and the flowers are red and faded.

When the moon arrives, the Tianxin River shines brightly, the distant sails are hidden, and the cold stars peek out. Half of the rain and tears will crush the ink pool into pieces.

The wind blows away the infinite charm. Who has ever seen it? The words turn into ashes.

43. A bit of delicate red intoxicates the window, flowers bloom on the shore, and the water on the shore of the heart is cool. The wind and sand are always busy with the snow and the moon, the kites are also messy, and the shadows are also flowing. Waiting for the sound of Xiao to fall in the clouds, the purple smoke is warm and fragrant, and the dust smoke is dim. There are countless injuries caused by surprise in leisure time. How can I paddle in spring and how can I hope to wear it in autumn. 44. The trickling drizzle moistens the Xiang curtains, and the gentle smiles touch the heart. Where are you embroidering butterflies and falling in love with flowers, drinking from the snow and plum blossoms all over the sky? Willows crow, spring beauties sleep in the orchid stream, and drizzle moistens the Xiang curtain. The flowers on the street are blooming and people are as old as before. They only admire the shadows of people but not the immortals. Gui Yi's blue dream begins with hundreds of millions of shengs, and her lovesickness sends her to the spring and the flying dragon grinds it. The trickling drizzle moistens the Xiang curtain, which is worthy of looking back at the Zixia Palace. The blue and white splash of ink on the piano enters the ridge, and the clouds spread out with freehand colors. The water in Qianjiang River is full of love, and the trickling drizzle moistens the Xiang curtain. 45. Jade is made of stamens and emeralds are used as skirts, and plain paper is filled with snow and cleanses the heart. Not to mention spending half a lifetime in mud, she is still clear of the floating clouds of all sentient beings.

46. A pot of water is hard to swallow, and flying catkins wet your eyes. Where is the silence deep in the night, the moon is softly wrapped around my fingers.

Walking with old sorrows, looking forward to the west building, it is hard to let go. Flowers bloom for a season, but only smiles are a dream, who will keep the plain jade?

47. Apply light makeup with lotus in the morning, and the light mist covers the remaining fragrance. If the flowers explain the words, the flowers are also crazy, melancholy, and choked with sobs. ***The inkstone is still cold, who is reading the red medicine beside the bridge? The old dream is charming and addictive, bitter, and the bamboo shadow shatters the ground and hurts!

48. Flying catkins dream, thin shadows are cold. Exquisite and fragile, the flowers and the moon move on the boat. At the end of the clouds and water, there is Mount Mo. The smoke in the cage is light, and the wind is flowing in the sleeves. ***The knot of long-cherished wishes, clear face frost. Her dark eyebrows are slightly furrowed, and she sighs softly in the darkening night. Youchi Jinglian draws plain makeup. A petal smile, green skirt dancing far away fragrance.

49. The wind blows through the blue sky, and the spring mountains are lightly embedded with pears. Regardless of the language of flowers, the lotus is wrapped in cicada wings. Heart rain, heart rain, pouring wine at dusk.

50. The bitter snow makes tea and warms Zen sleeves, and flowers fly in my dreams endlessly. Listening to the rain at the west window makes me feel sad. The still water flow is deep and calm, this feeling has nothing to do with the wind and the moon. Have a drunken tea break with you in the deep valley.

51. The shadow outside the curtain, thinking quietly, looking at the busy embroidered butterflies in the sparse forest. The clouds are flowing, the heart is flowing, and I can taste the bright white cold fragrance. The clear voice of glass composes moving music in the drizzle. The beautiful shadows of lotus flowers reflected a pool of tenderness in the moonlight. The lotus blossoms are visible, but whose color is the lotus root? The green seed falls silently, for whom does the lotus fragrance condense? 52. If the world of mortals could be seen through, who would hold tenderness in his left hand and poplar snow paper in his right hand, at the foot of Zhongnan Mountain, on the lavender, carefully soothing my belly full of light sorrow for a season, quietly hugging the flying catkins between my brows and the fragrance of plum blossoms in my dream? If the world of mortals could be seen through, I would be surrounded by misty clouds and spring rain all the way. The clear moon in a lake is now plucking the winter water chestnuts. The snow on the broken bridge has not sealed my heart. It is difficult to lock in love in the secluded mountains and wilds. The shadows of sparse bamboo leaves cover you with the vicissitudes of your life, nine songs. The gurgling autumn water washes away your eternal sorrow.

53. The storm has not yet come, but my heart is already grateful. I am relaxing on the boat and dancing in the wind with a smile. The spring breeze comes again, and the fragrance of silence fills Taowu Lilong. There is no trace in the still water, listening to the lush green leaves that are deserted. The moon is shining brightly at dusk, and there are dreams. I am speechless, hoping that the flying flowers will be brilliant and lonely. The sound of the geese stops gradually disappears, even though it is a thousand kinds of soft intestines, it will eventually turn into all kinds of helplessness. Who melts your thousand-year-old ice heart, and who picks up your drunken cigarettes and dreams? With a sigh, the high mountains and flowing water flow eastward, has the world changed?

54. A bridge is named Naihe; a river is named Wangchuan. By the Sansheng Stone, the beautiful woman is still there. I wish to accompany you for three thousand times of drunken laughter without complaining about separation; recall that the beauty is like jade, and the sword is like a rainbow, shattering the void; unfortunately, every word is sad after flying, and the love is hard to contemplate. The mirror, flowers and water are at your fingertips. He drank Meng Po soup with a smile. She doesn’t shed tears of beauty! The mist and rain are both invincible, and the sky and the earth are equally sad. If there is an afterlife, the city will be warm for you, the clear lotus will accompany the quiet moon, and the quiet pond will be thin.

55. At the foot of the golden screen, Qing Ben is passionate, pointing around Bing Xin, but the fate is shallow. There was light wind, heavy frost, heavy rain and sleet, and heavy fog and mist. It's late for the slender clouds to make moonlight and the flowers are late, and the heavy flowers are harvested early, so why are they willing to bury them? The Chinese Valentine's Day is here again. Wherever I go after being drunk, my shadows are mismatched and broken. Two gulls lie in the shade of the vines, and several people come to go boating and sing loudly. The red lotus and white lotus sigh that I am crazy, and I shed tears and smile every night. Stealing the ladder to change time and space, it’s hard, hard, hard, how can you make a single wish...

56. Twin flowers, I welcome you with all my heart, as bright as the burning plum fragrance, I am happy to welcome you, Beautiful and drunk. The lotus shadows in the pond are accompanied by the quiet vegetation, bathing in the pottery, carrying the sweet wind, flying down to the west. Wearing a blessing, wearing a cloud, playing the piano and sheng all the way, the soul of a painting floating in the air, I will accompany you for the rest of my life.

57. Don’t take yourself too seriously, as long as a gust of wind blows you away, you will be alone in the world, and it will be hard to find your fragrance, and half a hook of silver will be soft and hazy after drinking it. Don’t take yourself too lightly, and let the years pass by. Water, no one can replace obsession and infatuation, singing all the enchanting ripples in a pillow.

A rain of falling flowers, a cool breeze, a curtain of dreamy beauty, a love affair with the snow and moon, a misty solitary shadow, two places missing each other, thick smoke and clouds, thick purple fragrance and red road. Walk with the fate, fly with the heart, travel with the wind...

58. In the dream of the heart, the butterfly clothes are dancing beautifully. The spring breeze is intoxicating and bright, the springs are clear in summer, the red branches are falling in autumn water, and the warm sun is shining in winter. The beauty of the face is faded and the fragrance remains unchanged, just like the beauty of the song blooming in the wind. I don’t care about luxury, I just want the world. When I drink wine, I know it’s warm. Listen to the bamboo language on a rainy night and savor the tranquility of the years. Sections of sentimentality and melancholy penetrate the ink between the strings, dripping from the trees, condensing the fragrant tea, inviting the osmanthus to appreciate it. Love is like a light gouache painting, tranquil, beautiful and indifferent. I only wish you to cherish the flowers when they bloom and never leave them when they fade.

59. The maple shadows are leisurely, people are first putting on their makeup, the cool breeze passes over the mountains, and the reed flowers blow down and the moon fills the river. The chills are chilling, my thoughts are light, the midnight showers are busy, and the dew is refreshing and moisturizing my heart. Pick up a stick of osmanthus to decorate my ears, it will soften my delicate hands and scent my dreams. Pick a touch of autumn red to hang in the west chamber, flatter my dark curtains, and round my lamps. Feathers cover the fragrance, music rhymes, the light comes out of the willow shade, faintly enters the deep and deep, I watch three thousand songs at dawn, and the fragrance of ink shines on me all the way. The alluring silver light spreads out the desolation all over the place. When people take a breath and think for a while, they thin into strings of black clouds.

60. When I think of it, thousands of rivers and mountains are just around me. As soon as he turned around, Mo Dao's heart dreamed of Ruolian Jiang Huyuan. Cherish each one, when the peach blossoms bloom, when the snow falls on plain paper, don’t forget to feel at ease!

61. Half a screen of green mountains, with flowing mist and blue cliffs. Acacia is hidden in the clouds, and wandering is always painful.

The shadow of the moon is reflected in the sleeves, but whoever reads the old words is trapped in the dust. The secluded path is fragrant, the eaves are red, and the clear rhyme is directed towards the valley flute. Deeply twisting, lingering and researching, half annihilated and half found.

A pot of spring scenery, brocade water weeping towards the sky. How to sing a solo song, drink quietly and listen to the flowers fall.

The west wind is cool and smokey, and the flying feathers are sleepwalking in the purple stream. The cold rain returns, and the accompanying dust disappears. Ping's voice disappears and worries gradually become denser.

63. Who can dance with Langhao, paint beautiful pictures, and laugh all his life? Who can spread the sky, twist the stars, and be soaring in life? Who can ride a colorful carving, fold an eyebrow knife, and be charming all their life? Who can fish with Chuijian Bridge infatuatedly and be proud all his life? The bamboos are sparse and the chrysanthemums are clever, old sorrows are difficult to find new charms. There is more spring and less autumn, the beautiful and beautiful alleys are filled with purple mosaics, the wind is whistling, the piano is misty, is your heart already old?

64. Holding a full moon in the hand, stars are splashing across the sky, flying red dots are startling, flowers are everywhere, and there are piles of resentment embedded in the sky. Holding a round of ancient yue in one's arms, describing the pathos in detail, slowly twisting the wind strings in the pavilion, decorating wet branches, and pouring moth eyebrows from a distance. Embroider a green flower in the heart, dripping with the peerless clear lotus, standing proudly in the deep blue sky, slightly blooming in the thin coolness, and the purple caltrop is the top of the dust. The whispering spring breeze of that lifetime weaves the seeds, weaves soft waves, and shakes the osmanthus. Awakening from the thick green ink and lush thoughts, leaning alone on the sloping railing, who is smiling at the age of Hua Sui?

65. Fold a branch and the moon floats on the river, as if it is gentle and soft as jade, smile at the charming wind, flowers, snow and moon, and beat the horizontal chapter of the green flute. A whirlpool of falling flowers is enchanting, the lingering sigh of the vines is lingering, the book and piano are drifting after a lifetime of drunken love, soaked in the mist of maple frost. The slanting light is short, the moon shadow is chaotic, the fragrant gauze is fragrant, the green peaks and brocade water are broken, leaving only the Qingzheng to accompany the long dream. It's more cold, inviting spring paddles, pears plating on the boat, the fog has lost its scarlet clouds, and the night is cool, for fear that the beautiful songs will faint and sing. Colorful paper comic exhibition, simple thoughts alone, half-hearted thoughts are in the clouds.

66. I have no dream to give to those who are waiting for me. My body is like an autumn lotus; The flowers in the capital only bloom for a while, and the world of mortals turns to sadness. The spring breeze is eventful and enchants the eyes. The fingertips are already uneven, but I hate the ruthless wind and rain. Bees and butterflies arrive in search of fragrance. The new wind destroys the flowers. The moon marks startle my dreams. The good scenery is hard to stay. . There is a different kind of sadness dancing in the wind. Time brings us not only the distance, but also the other shore that will never be crossed...

67. Winter thunder bursts, summer rain and snow, heaven and earth are united to dare Never with you. But the end of the world has not yet arrived, and your retreating back has been blurred. A piece of beauty is not worth all the love in your world. The breeze blows and the water becomes cold. Shengge melodiously recalls the past. Under the flowered paper umbrella in the Qingming rain, who joked for three thousand years, and when the time is gone, I suddenly look back, you are no longer mine. Love and hate are both hurtful. Perhaps only by neither loving nor hating can one be neither sad nor happy, and the mountains and rivers remain calm and peaceful.

68. As spring goes and autumn comes, swallows come and fly away. Looking through the autumn water, the peach blossoms are still laughing at the spring breeze. A streak of light detects the shadow. Even though the clear eyes turn to gray with sorrow and lovesickness, I will never regret the beauty of the first encounter. Goodbye. The drunkenness and the brilliance of knowing each other. Wherever there are no flying notes, the spring breeze sings beautifully across the fishing shore, and it is suspected that the Qiang bamboo rhymes in the night sky!

69. If you can forget me if you hate me, I would rather make the same mistake again and again and hurt you more. If you hurt me, you will be freed. I will not dodge or dodge, and let all your arrows pass through. If being away from me can make you extremely angry, I always ask the Buddha to help you live a better life. I owe you the loneliness in this life, and I will pay you back in the next life.

If you are sad, be strong and speak up. I will smile as brightly as yesterday and listen to you make your decision. If the infatuation turns into plain ink, the plum branches are embroidered with thousands of flowers, the sky has a heart lock, locking the past, no longer each is his own.

70. In the dim dusk, pillow on the bluestone beside the stream, blending into the poetic and picturesque landscape, listening to the gurgling water flowing by, and feeling peaceful and quiet in your heart. Stretching mountains and graceful water. The mountains are majestic, the water is gentle; the wind is swaying, the clouds are changing, the wind is moist, the clouds are light; the silent trees are colorful, the trees are strong, and the flowers are delicate. The light, moist and fresh wind blows the face with the fragrance of light flowers, causing random shadows and wrinkled pond water. Looking at the sky, the sea of ??clouds, the sea of ??flowers, the afterglow of the setting sun, the tranquility overflows. The water flows through the depths of my heart, rippling slightly.

71. A person, a book, a cup of tea, and a curtain of dreams. Savor the tastes of life and realize the tranquility of the years. The traces of the floating world can only be cherished; life is short, take it as it comes. Watching the morning glow by the seaside and the meandering moonlight, it’s psychedelic!

72. Rain, falling to the ground, turns into poetry, flowers, swaying into paintings, dreams, drifting into words, love, crushed into fragrance. Who is marking the ground as a prison and counting the wind, flowers, snow and moon, who is sighing in the ink, tea, and chess in the loneliness of the cold dust, who is watching the shadow of the lake with half-quelled leisurely sorrow. I understand you, the plain paper is full of splashing blue and white flowers, the fallen flowers are enchanting, and the charming red color of my old home in the mountains.

73. Thousands of flowers are stained by the soft mud on the lakeside, the branches of madder and shield are dripping green, and the willow ribbons on the white embankment are blown thinly. Who planted the soft wind, thousands of sails and Nanke, thousands of strands of Huanmeng Qingsong hanging down, the long and empty relics of thousands of years, where are the wet eyes facing each other? Who recalls the old days again, broken bridges and crushed thousands of red buds. The pear vortex is fragrant, and the soul is gradually disappearing. I will return late, and I will be drunk with a thousand thoughts. There is no emotion in meeting each other, nothing more than a sentence of "unforgettable", and blue tears will splash down Qianhui in an instant. The brocade water lasts for a long time, the plain harp is given as a gift, and thousands of songs soak the black eyebrows.

74. Loneliness is the charming green lotus blossoming in the clear night sky, inexplicably blooming in the depths of another's heart, fragrant all over the sky, seemingly real and illusory, swaying with every day's thoughts. The beauty and elegance clearly touch every smiling and fragrant flower-like soul, and vaguely crush every page of Pingting's dream like the moon floating on the river. Loneliness is synonymous with self-cultivation, restraint, elegance and fragrant taste. Loneliness is also an invisible killer that consumes all the inner energy and thoughts.

75. A pillow of frost and a pillow of words, a word of chaos and a word of memory, a memory of a beautiful return to the old friend, one person's final song and one person's thoughts. A flower, a forest, a river, a frown, a smile, a drunkenness, a loneliness, a flower, a lamp, a tea, a heartbreak, a light sorrow, a charm, a line, a dream. The southern branches of sparse plum blossoms are soaked in cold dew, it is difficult to express them all, and the lovesickness is painful...

76. Who is happy for you to take in, and who buys your tenderness? Others laugh at me for wearing thick clothes, but I don’t know that your heart has traveled far away. Thousands of years of coldness return to the Xuan Tower, throwing away all the idle gifts and scattering red beans. Shake off the jade pillow and wet your shallow eyes, brewing sweet-scented osmanthus wine from flying dreams. I laugh at others because they are so cold, how can I keep the warmth of self-pity? Lingxiao sits in the dark and misty old, hoeing and thinking. The smoke locks Fangfei and Lanc?me weeps, only the heart of the wave is cast with silver. In this year, the beauty flows with the water, the flowers in the forest fade, the dirt in the heart is buried, the worries about the past and the future, each note dances in the clear autumn.

77. The so-called forever only represents yesterday. The so-called love only represents the time. Some people live in memory, unforgettable; some people live around you, but far away. When you stare at it, lovesickness turns into sadness, and when you look back, it turns into resentment. The bright moon of the old days is an everlasting promise that cannot be sustained, and an oath that cannot be retained. The entanglement in the heart, if it can be solved, it is a knot, but if it cannot be solved, it is a disaster. Those who are entangled are still hurt, and those who let go gradually turn into jade butterflies.

78. Watching the moon withered in the sky, looking forward to the sound of the son. The cold wind is mixed with confusion, and the sadness is passing by the ears. The bamboo shadows are leisurely walking, and the clear song is like a butterfly. The stars are flying alone in the sky, and the sleeves are full of confusion, and the sky is sad. The fragrance of the lotus across the pond is illusory in the distance and chaos in the near, and the coolness makes the lotus always painstaking. When will I see clearly, it turns out that I have deceived myself. Cutting the lotus root silk into thin pieces is like smoke, like slippers, like peeling off cocoons of insects. A season of deep illness, a page of flying catkins, a soft intestine that turns thousands of times, one ups and downs, one stretch, one step, three pauses and nine thoughts, don't be sad for a long time.

79. Yearning in the wind has always lived on the edge of dreams, and bright memories always turn me into a thin plum branch through the bright and upright moonlight, which is desolate all the way, imitating melancholy for a season, and uniquely sad. Falling in love is so short, but forgetting is so long. The night gives me bright eyes, but I have to use them to find the light alone. Endless desolate thoughts, talking and listening to oneself, unaware of the twilight, but the flowers are still beautiful, and the dream is too early. With one clear step and three pauses without saying a word, tears fell like beads in front of you.

80. The unforgettable beauty of Lijiang, the romantic beauty of the world, the intoxication of Lijiang, the Naxi silver paintings of Mufu... Time can be lost, but Lijiang cannot be left behind. Quiet years flow under the bridge. It's as clear and subtle as a song... When I borrowed butterfly wings, I looked at the streets in all directions again. The water of Lijiang water poured down my sorrow. I don't know what I miss most when I'm drunk. The ancient city of Lijiang is ancient, and the lake in my heart is shallow and melancholy... ... Lijiang is not far away, when the world is most drunk and looking back, if sadness comes, I wish Lijiang and I were not there!

81. Yesterday is gone, far away, and cannot be traced back. Today is beautiful, and I will return home with the moon in my arms. Tomorrow will be a dream, and the fragrance of flowers will follow. The clouds move with the wind, and the feelings move with the heart. If the heart does not move, people will not feel pain. If there is no heart, there will be no parting!

82. The stars are fighting, the flying flowers are flying by the moon, and I am singing my clouds. I am free and do not admire the king. This time, the sky is blue and the water is green. The wind, flowers, snow and moon wash away the sorrow, and the autumn red leaves turn into a beautiful scenery. The heart lotus is swaying step by step, and its smile can withstand all the dust.

83. The wind is affectionate, the water is smiling, the clouds are rolling in the sky, and the leaves are dancing in autumn. The mountain is silent, I am speechless, my heart is palpitating and moved only for you. The water is silent and I am silent. My joy and prayers are all because of you. When I look back, purple flowers are blooming, soft songs pass by my ears, and I miss you silently. Between the lowered eyebrows, there is a faint fragrance, and the misty rain gathers in the river to miss you. The person is thousands of miles away, but the love is deep in my heart...

84. Thousands of green leaves dance in the autumn wind, and the water is deep. I revisit my home every time, I am thousands of miles away, my heart is beside my ears and at the bottom of the lake. Painting mountains and listening to the rain copy you, the gentleness of your fingertips creates joy. The clouds are misty, the people are misty, and the mountains and rivers are distant.

85. Flowers bloom and fall like flowers in mourning. They wither once and then fall. The sky is high and the clouds are light, let me do whatever I want, and the old earth will not stain me. If the chrysanthemum smells fragrant again, it has empty thin threads and slender petals, don't tell me that she has no core, no one will listen to her with its lush branches and leaves. The colorful spring has come to an end, and as far as the eye can see, the sky is full of green flowers and plum blossoms. It is not now that I want to appreciate the plum blossoms and snow. I advise you not to drink the wine of a long farewell. The flowers are already late, and the long flowing water is only friendship.

86. The flying snow of Mu Mei keeps her face clean every year, and tolerates the sky and the earth, and the moon beats the rain and smoke. The misty clouds turn into rain every day, and the rain moistens thousands of branches, and the plum blossoms and snow are always covered with snow. The moon falls over a city, and longing turns into mourning, and a pool of red memories turns into wine.

87. The setting sun is surrounded by misty clouds, the flowing clouds are soft, I lean on the railing and look at the bamboos, the green stream is deep with flowers and trees, the bare face is bright and the jade plate is embroidered on the wrist, and the slender rain clouds are drunk. Your heart is like my heart, and I pity your son Qingqing. On a cold night, with the shadow of the moon and flowers, why should the immortals Linjiang sing the rainy bells together.

88. In a clear dream, petals fall off one by one. In the aftertaste, I treasure it one by one. Xiao is sobbing, the rain is falling, the residual red fragrant mud is left, and the blue sea and sunny beach are smiling. Scooping jade dew, stealing pearls, the moonlight is clear, the curtains are fragrant, the light sorrow is exhaled with the mist, and the joyful face stays for a long time.

89. An inch of candlelight is layered with sorrow, and every inch is turned into gray and layered with smoke. The light is sleepless, wandering low, and it is difficult to enter poetry.

90. If life is just like the first meeting, we would like to meet each other by chance, talk and laugh freely all the time, and the heartbeat of the moment without any restrictions will be solidified. Love does not have to last forever, and the subtle fragrance floats just right. Being ruthless does not necessarily mean determination. Just remember, the first meeting each other's smiles. Faint Sanskrit sounds, long-lasting love, rain-bearing plantains, thin lovesickness, and the tinkling sound of the piano, a clear song invites the moon to sing at night, the lingering flute sound can be heard on an ark, gentle and lingering, a wisp of thoughts, tranquility Like water.

91. Play a lintel to meet each other happily, sing a cloud of green jade case, and sleep with the sun and moon. Who is sitting at the ferry of dreams, looking at each fleeting colorful sail and counting the moonlight that has dried all night, and in the early morning, it is worn into amber beads, swaying in the earlobe, and the charm becomes sad.

92. In the corner of my heart, you stay on the warm water meadow, bright and elegant, with the clouds gently turning, the dancing flowers blooming like brocade, the charm of dancing and falling encounters, and the delicate dancing of the common people. .

93. The blooming trees are covered with green leaves of lovesickness, and the fruit-studded branches are filled with the sadness of missing. The worries that cannot be moved away, the shallow gifts that cannot be sent, the endless blood and tears, and the heartache in the depths of the clouds that cannot be forgotten.

94. The sorrow is real, the tears are fake, there is nothing to cling to, and they drift for a moment; a hundred years ago, Mei Xuewu was in love, you don’t know me, and I don’t know you. Happiness is true, but the heart is false. It doesn't matter gains and losses. The wind and clouds are fleeting. In a hundred years, Taoli sings about loneliness. You miss me and I miss you. The back is real, the person is fake, there is no cause and effect, it is just a fingertip in an instant; a hundred years later, the phoenix trees will be fine, without you and without me.

95. Who did the flowers, green leaves and green leaves fail? Who is getting cold when the moon is full and the rain begins? A hook of ice wheel, eyes full of lovesickness. The breeze passed by and the fields were desolate. Things are right and people are not the same, so why stop? How much speechlessness, how much unwillingness, just like falling into the red east and passing away.

The rhythm is carefully marinated every night, the lingering thoughts soaked in blood and tears, and the leisurely feeling of enjoying the snow in a silver bowl while cooking words to cure hunger. To speak or not to speak, to understand or not to understand, to know or not to know, is to witness the two heavens. I just want to come and go in silence, not surprised, not happy, not angry, not sad, and at peace.

96. Far away, don’t let melancholy kill you, the heart-corroding magic will eventually be tempered into blooming flowers. Dreams remain in dreams, don’t let sadness confuse you, the ethereal spirit before dawn will fill your clothes with the fragrance of flowers. The thorn bird will flutter like an epiphyllum, and the lotus will linger in the brilliance of the starry sky. Who is heartbroken when the Milky Way drops ink in advance, and whose pulse is melancholy when analyzed by the rapids in the shallows. Looking away from the floating dust, crossing the river through spring and autumn, wandering through the mist, rain, clouds, water and purple roads. One glance gives rise to a hundred thoughts, and one thing is empty and all things are eternal.

97. Fishing to pieces breaks the cold moon in a pond, and listens to the graceful rhyme of cold strings. The light rain and no smoke have overturned yesterday's silence again. Someone's long and long sigh is flying outside the window, quietly counting every chapter of the past. The light air descends on the green grass, inviting dandelions to keep company. The ground turns yellow and white overnight, and each handle echoes with hope and yearning. The osmanthus tree passed before my eyes. I stood on tiptoes, but I still couldn't smell your fragrance. The dream of four-leaf clover always lifts away the precipitation and sadness, looking around, the wind is light and the clouds are desolate.

98. The north wind blows and blows, making the slopes turn red. The yellow and quiet paths are drunk, and the ears of rice are hanging low. The lotus leaves are curled up and haggard, but the new green spring is still there. The buds of the chrysanthemums are falling, and they will be heard crisply in the coming year. The flying geese return south again, and the tired birds in the forest return. The wind illuminates the autumn water, and the face is beautiful. The old buildings are covered in ashes, piled up inch by inch. They caress each other and look after each other without laughing. Thousands of branches are thin and graceful, and all the courtyards are covered with flowers. Surrounded by the Jixiao Bridge, who can be offended by the fragrance? Cicada feathers are falling, people are gradually shedding, and plum blossoms are heard on the far wall, but dreams still follow?

99. Whose eyes have been clear by the fragrance of a piece of ink? Whose vision is blurred by a fragment of curtain? A beautiful encounter cannot draw a beautiful circle. Why is love so thin and shallow? I closed my eyes and sighed softly, letting the petals fall off the branches, and the willow threads scattered all over the ground with sadness! Shaohua Yixie bowed his head and asked Su Xian, what is missing in Liuqu's heart? Thousands of years in the world of mortals are vaguely parting, and the three lifetimes are short. The long love between two lives has also ignited tears. It is difficult to contemplate that we are separated by mountains and seas.

100. The wind blows the fragrance of osmanthus, and the moon moves and the shadow of the heart is confused. The rain knocks on the citrons, the bamboos are scattered, the window shakers are swaying, and the weeping willows bring sadness. The green tiles and gray rafters left only an empty oar, which could not reach the Cuiying shore. The ylang-ylang room is leaning against the sunset, and the remaining lotuses are laughing in the mud, which is hurt by drinking. Plants and trees are worshiping each other, and thoughts are changing from morning to night. The dream is talking about the spring in the city, and the sentences are broken. I wander around Meizhi, looking back at each step, and I am amazed by the vast number of kingfishers in the reeds. When the weather is cold, put on more clothes. When your heart is cold, you will add more charcoal. Look at each other and never forget each other.

From: Aiyage>