butterflies in colorful clothes dance in a daze, and it's sunny and rainy.
Go boating and smoke through Hongliu Lane, and enter the lantern with a book.
Yanzi twisted her orchid fingers, and her pink body was light and sweaty.
The warbler lingers on the bow, twittering and thrusting towards the south.
Shake the flower boat lightly, fiddle with your fingers, get a little drunk, and get lost in this willow lane.
The cigarettes in the boudoir are no longer that simple flavor. Open the jade curtain, and the illusion is in front of you.
Holding a white lotus in your hand is just admiring its purity. A burst of excitement, Yan dance; A moment is a dream, yingge.
I only know that there is a person who can never find himself, but he is looking for a dream. Then the West Lake, Xu Xian, will continue with you in time ...
A few swallows are carved on the finely carved peach trees, flying out of the small pavilion and jade building, leaping across the river, but in the depths of time, they turn into a mass of ash. Let me ask for flowers with tears in the depths of this sea, at least, there is a warmth from you ...
The woman wearing ribbons came silently and asked how deep the courtyard was, when the flowers would be green, fat, red and thin. Protect this faint feeling and stupid dream with a tender heart like a flower ...
Even this night, there were no fireworks, no songs, and tears of this beautiful woman. I never know when this youth will stop. When it comes to searching for happiness, I only see withered flowers, withered hearts and withered feelings ...
Wisteria Falls
I can't help but stop.
I've never seen a vine blooming like this before. I just saw a brilliant lavender, hanging down from the sky like a waterfall, with no beginning or end. It's just a deep and shallow purple, as if it were flowing, laughing and growing. On the big purple banner, there is a little silver light, just like splashing water. When you look closely, you know that it is the lightest part of each purple flower, flirting with the sun.
The spring blossoms have faded here, and there are no people enjoying the flowers, and there are no butterflies around the bees. Some are the shining and blooming vines of this tree. Flowers are next to each other, one after another, pushing and squeezing each other, so lively and lively!
"I'm blooming!" They are laughing.
"I'm blooming!" They shout.
each spike of flowers is the top blooming and the bottom waiting to be released. The color is light on the top and deep on the bottom, as if the purple had settled down and settled in the most tender and smallest bud. Every blooming flower is like a small full sail with a sharp bottom under it. The cabin is bulging, and like a smile that can't help laughing, it is about to open. What kind of fairy dew and nectar is there? I leaned in to pick one.
but I didn't pick it. I have no habit of picking flowers. I just stood and stared, and felt that this wisteria waterfall was not only in front of my eyes, but also slowly flowing through my heart. Flowing, it took away the anxiety and sorrow that had been pressing on my heart all these years. It was about the mystery of life and death and brotherhood. I am immersed in the brilliance of this dense flower, and nothing else exists for the time being, only the peace of mind and the joy of life.
In addition to the brilliance, there is a faint fragrance here. The fragrance seems to be light purple, and it gently covers me like a dream. I suddenly remembered that there was a big wisteria plant outside my house more than ten years ago. It climbed very high next to a dead Sophora japonica, but the flowers were never sparse, and a bunch of flowers hung alone in the treetops in the east and west, as if looking at the color and testing something. Later, there was not even the sparse flower string. Other wisteria frames in the garden were also torn down and fruit trees were planted. At that time, it was said that there was an inevitable relationship between flowers and life corruption. I once thought with regret: there are no more vines here.
After so many years, the vines have blossomed again, and they are blooming so abundantly and densely. The purple waterfall covers the thick branches of the disk, flowing and flowing to people's hearts.
flowers and people will encounter all kinds of misfortunes, but the long river of life is endless. I touched the little purple flower cabin, which was full of the wine of life. It was full of sails and sailed on the river of shining flowers. It is one of the ten thousand flowers, and it is precisely by each one that it forms a splendid flowing waterfall of ten thousand flowers.
in this light purple glow and light purple fragrance, I feel that I have quickened my pace.
taste chrysanthemum tea
I like to drink chrysanthemum tea, not because of its delicious and mellow taste, but because of its autumn charm.
gently pick up a few dried autumn chrysanthemums, put them in a cup, and fill the cup with boiling water. The thin chrysanthemums float on the mouth of the cup, just like autumn leaves falling all over the lake, giving people a desolate feeling. Looking at the rising fog, I can't help but see the rich autumn, the golden color all over the mountains, the world of autumn chrysanthemum, the splendor of autumn chrysanthemum, and I can't help but remember walking around the campus ten years ago, holding a book of poems by Xu Zhimo, humming Dai Wangshu's Rain Lane and Shu Ting's love poem To the Oak Tree over and over again, and remembering the autumn colors in full swing on campus ...
I don't know when, the dead chrysanthemum in that cup gradually spread out, and the dark yellow stamens burst out, full and round, and the petals became thick and full of luster, stretching out in clear water, one, two, three ... swaying gently in the water, the mouth of the cup was full of fragrance, refreshing, full of golden color, full of brilliance. I can't help but wonder: this yellow autumn chrysanthemum can spread such a touching smile at the last moment of its life!
I don't sigh anymore. Even if it is like a thin chrysanthemum, there will always be a moment when it smells fragrant!
spring, is it coming?
is spring really here?
what I feel is a chill. The chill that invades the heart and lungs. Perhaps, it still comes with the shadow of winter, and it is full of fatigue and helplessness.
The winter cloud, still hovering in the sky, covers the sun and the sky, gloomy and full of condensed water drops, and is about to drip. At this moment, spring may be quietly hiding behind that dark cloud, far away and strange.
On the roadside, the leaves have fallen on the withered branches, and the green buds in spring are still sleeping, which reminds people that the old vine is a faint crow and the old road is a thin horse. I can't find a trace of spring. It seems that flying all over the sky is the messenger of cold, the grinning spirit of winter, and the chilling cold!
I close my eyes, as if I saw spring, just under the gradually melting ice and snow, trying to break through the ice; Spring, under the sleeping frozen soil, opens its eyes lazily and yawns; In spring, on the dead branch, the bud is slowly blooming like a bean; Spring is pulling away the dark clouds, slightly revealing her attractive appearance and revealing her dazzling brilliance; Spring is trying to melt the frozen heart and make it warm, quiet and tender ...
Is spring really coming? When I was awake?
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