I have always believed that there is an encounter in the world, not on the road, but in the deep heart; There is an encounter that is a reunion after a long separation; There is a kind of meeting because there was an agreement in previous lives, so we can meet in this life. In the deepest part of the world of mortals, meeting you for the first time is like returning to an old friend; At the quietest point of the years, I am heartbroken and blooming with you.
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Open the calendar gently, and April will appear as scheduled. A quiet flower blooms gently in the calendar, and a warm feeling flows in my heart. ...
April, the most unique month of the year, is a day in late spring and early summer.
Last night, a misty spring rain hit the willow tree outside the window. In the early morning, the catkins on the ground danced lightly with the wind, and sparse red water droplets dotted them. After the rain, the sky in Chuqing is always as blue as the sea. The sun shines on the body warmly through the clouds, giving people a relaxed and happy mood.
Since the phrase "You are my April Day" has spread, it seems that April always has the deepest feelings for me. In the twelve months of the spring and autumn cycle, I always miss you in April and always want to ask you out in April. * * * Enjoy a romantic feast * * * Enjoy a movie for two.
I want to go for an outing on such a day. In the deepest part of the grass, listen to birds and insects, lie on your back, enjoy the blue sea and blue sky, white clouds and pale dogs. Always on such a day, I miss a person, a person in the sea of rape flowers, a person with long hair, graceful image and smiling, a person who lives in my heart.
Up to now, I still remember the first time we met. In April, when Fang Fei smiled, you walked slowly from the ancient town.
Holding an oil-paper umbrella and wearing a plain clothes, the clear rain patters on your umbrella, playing an elegant Jiangnan tune. I stood on the bridge to see you, waiting for you to come quietly and go quietly, leaving only a graceful back, a shallow footprint and a wisp of fragrance.
Just then, I heard Bloom's voice. In the clear rain, stand quietly until you go far.
You didn't look back, didn't stay, just left quietly, but left me with a lifetime of sadness. So, I went to the depths of the ancient town to find you, but only found a leisurely time in ancient style; I went to the romantic place in Shan Ye to find you, but I only saw bloom flowers falling, butterflies flying and warblers singing and dancing; I went to the West Lake to look for you at the broken bridge, but I saw red medicine and grass on the bridge, and there were many terraces in the misty rain on the moonlit night of the twenty-fourth bridge.
I know, you are always in my bright eyes.
Buddha said that everything comes with fate.
So, I will wait for you. On spring days, I read Tang poetry and learn Song ci. On a hot summer day, listen to a cicada and draw a picture of Qing Lian thinking of you in the moonlight of the lotus pond; In autumn when maple leaves are fluttering, the hourglass is not in the center, and the evening breeze is cool. You walk in the quiet courtyard and send acacia and autumn moon away. In the snowy winter, plant a daffodil and play a song "Shui Yun Chan Xin" just to meet you again in your heart.
I believe that you have always been there and have never gone far.
Your back is still spinning in front of your eyes, your paper umbrella is still swaying in front of the window, and your fragrance is still lingering at your fingertips.
I think, maybe this is fate, you and I have no chance in this life. However, it seems that heaven or my piety moved you to appear in my dream again.
You'd better walk slowly with an oil-paper umbrella. Smile gracefully. Delicate eyes, watery cheeks, and red lips with fallen cherry blossoms, just like a fairy coming out of an ink painting, stunned me. You gently told me that one day we would meet, guard against arrogance and rashness, and regard you as the number one scholar, which is the day when we meet again.
So, I study hard at the cold window, drink rain and dew in the morning and accompany Leng Yue at night. Strive for self-improvement in the change of seasons, and study hard and make progress in the cycle of dusk. Just to give you an excellent self, just to give you a bright future, just to let you meet me, at my best moment, because I have an appointment with you, because I want to give you a beautiful April day on earth.
Time slips away quietly through the fingers, and the years sing in the wind and rain. I quietly put you in full bloom in my heart, watching you from the window, waiting for you to appear in the lights.
Maybe it's just a dream you gave me, but it gave me the motivation to move forward. Every time I am so tired that I want to give up, I will think of your smile. Every time I fail and fall, I will think of your words. Every time I stand up strongly, I hope to see your positive eyes. Although you are not here, I look for courage in your eyes. Although you are gone, I want to give you a promising tomorrow, so I keep fighting and making progress. I just want to fall in love with you in the depths of the world of mortals.
I'm waiting for you in the depths of the world of mortals. Even if you still don't appear, I'm still willing to wait for you quietly.
When the meteor streaks across the sky, I pray that you will light up the miracle of my life; When the bright moon illuminates the earth, I expect you to break the silence of my life; When I wake up at midnight, I still stand on tiptoe and watch at the ancient town ferry where you came. Waiting for you to appear in front of my eyes, waiting for you to hold up the oil-paper umbrella, waiting for the clear rain to wet my eyes.
Waiting for you, in the deepest part of the world of mortals, I am still willing to whip my horse, make myself better and give you the best of myself. Let our life bloom with color, let you bloom with the most beautiful flowers in my life, accompany with the world of mortals, live a rainy life and laugh brightly; Let you and I meet again, achieve the most beautiful meeting in each other's lives, and let each other's lives play the most beautiful chapter.
April is a stranger, waiting for you in the deepest part of the world of mortals. Even if you are late, I am still willing to wait for you as promised. ...
Second, as beautiful as flowers and pure as jade, lightly dyeing the fleeting time.
In a previous life, you were plain clothes in my dream.
How many times have I dreamt in the middle of the night, came to the lush green shore, sailed a boat, picked an orchid, pursued your fluttering face in plain clothes and smelled your fragrant breath.
You are all white, standing on the stranger of Qingxi, frowning slightly, snapping your fingers, and a maple leaf floats by.
I reached out and picked it up, looking at the mottled lines on the leaves, shining golden in the sunset.
You sing and dance lightly, and I am Jade Emperor Xiaoxiao.
We walked hand in hand through fields, mountains, grasslands and deserts.
Look at the flowers in bloom, and see the clouds rolling in the evening.
Look at the flowing clouds in Chinese paintings and taste the white clouds and pale dogs in ancient poems.
We clasped our fingers and swore to heaven,
Make a vow that will never change in this life:
Hold your hand and grow old with your son.
In this life, you are two small conjectures of my childhood.
Looking at the colorful photos on the desk, my thoughts flew back to my childhood.
You are wearing a ponytail, a neat school uniform and a bright red scarf, walking on the way to school.
The phoenix tree beside the road, dancing with yellow leaves, is autumn.
I stood at the corner of the road, watching your distant figure, silently staring blankly.
You seem to feel that I'm looking at you, turn around and look at it lightly.
The gentleness of your bow transcends the shyness of the cool breeze, and you drank fairy tales all autumn.
From then on, I often stood in a distant alley waiting for you.
Waiting for you to pass by, waiting for you to bloom your smile in autumn.
I casually opened the yellowed notes and wrote down the words of two naive children:
Qingqing is your collar, YY is my miss.
In this life, you are the flower of my youth.
At this time, you retreated from the innocence of childhood and put on the vitality of youth.
Instead of wearing a ponytail or carrying a schoolbag, you put on black jeans and a blue checked shirt on a white background.
We took tableware and melons to have a picnic.
The smoke from the kitchen rises, and the rolling rice smells delicious, which makes our mouths water.
Eating my own cooking, drinking my own clear soup, watching my white face look gloomy.
We all laughed, and you laughed, very happy.
At that time, I was thinking, over time, you will be a good wife at home.
I wash dishes with you by the clear river.
Looking at your clear shadow in the water, I was in a daze again.
In the gurgling water, write down the poems of youth casually:
I hope to win a heart and never leave each other.
In this life, you are the charm of my college days.
Standing on the campus of the university, quietly watching you walk by.
At this time, you are already a slim girl in the flower season.
A thick black hair with a pink hairpin looks good.
We often discuss articles, read famous books and write our thoughts together.
You like reading Xi Murong's A Flowering Tree, Ann's Life as First Seen, Jing M.Guo's How Many Flowers Fall in a Dream, and Zweig's Letter from an Unknown Woman.
I like Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea, Lu Yao's Life, Kawabata Yasunari's Snow Country and Charlotte Brontexq's Jane Eyre.
We walked and rested, singing songs about wine and boating in the sea of books.
In those thick pages, I once again silently wrote:
There is no doubt about love when you are married.
Now, you are my undiscovered eyebrow in the world of mortals.
Your departure is like a fallen leaf in autumn.
I don't know, is it the pursuit of the wind or the failure to retain the tree?
I asked myself again, am I not good enough, or are your goals too high?
Looking at the back of you turning away, my heart seems to have fallen into the abyss of darkness.
I know, I just graduated and have nothing.
I can't fulfill my promise to you yet, because I am still a young scholar.
Perhaps, women are born to seek stability.
That's why you chose to leave.
Really, I understand, and I don't resent your leaving.
Because, in my heart, you have always been there.
Looking at the four seasons of time, counting the joys and sorrows of the world, tightly holding the dark green ring you gave me, I silently made a wish in my heart:
If you are well, it will be sunny.
In the afterlife, you are the autumn water in my eyes.
Dear, if, forever lover.
I'm still looking forward to meeting you, getting to know each other and supporting each other.
Show you lilies in spring, water lilies in summer, red leaves in autumn and snow in winter.
I want to hold your hand and travel around the world together, sharing joys and sorrows.
We'd better go to an uninhabited island, with no city and no interference.
We work at sunrise and rest at sunset.
Singing the autumn moon in China, singing the twilight drum and the morning bell.
We live freely, without noise, noise and material feasts.
In that pure land of the soul, the utopia of dreams.
Build our own indigo tiles and inky walls.
Looking at the bright future, I gently wrote on the paper:
Unless thunder rolls in the cold winter, unless it snows heavily in the hot summer, unless heaven and earth meet and connect, I dare to abandon my feelings for you until such a thing happens!
Write as a postscript:
Autumn comes and winter comes, and the north wind is rustling. I stand on the wall of Xi 'an, the ancient capital.
Touching the changes of history and human feelings, a trace of sadness suddenly rose in my heart.
I don't know whether the cold this winter is too fierce, or whether the real life is too real, or whether I am too optimistic about the future; Looking forward to my dream and being a blooming stranger, I am still willing to make great strides, boating in the sea of books and having a rest.
I think, no matter what happens in the future, I wish you happiness.
If the fallen leaves return to their roots, eternal lover.
I'd rather be a young scholar in plain clothes, drink a pot of sake and sing a poem.
I still dream of meeting you in my most beautiful years.
I still want to write a poem for you:
Beautiful as a flower, lightly dyed.
Third, golden times, let you warm your life.
Twenty strings for no reason, each string has a flower-like interval, representing youth.
Drunk in the spring city, there is no winter wind, I miss the night.
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Time is like water, time flies like an arrow, and suddenly looking back, it is the year of the crown. Standing on the ferry of the years, I want to drive an orchid boat upstream to the Lijiang River south of colorful clouds. Take a romantic trip with you with a faint evening breeze.
Crown at twenty, stand at thirty. Today, it's twenty and five. Opening the new calendar, I can't help but get lost in thought. Looking back at the road, it was bumpy, bumpy and muddy, but warmer. When I was a child, I was loved by my parents, then edified by my teacher, then cared by my classmates, and finally murmured by my lover.
Do you remember that peach blossoms bloom in March in spring and willow branches are beautiful in spring?
Standing in a strange land where peach blossoms are in full bloom, I will fold a crimson peach blossom, drink a pot of old daughter's red and write a spring poem. I want to walk hand in hand with you, walk into the depths of the path where flowers are gradually entering the charming eyes, taste the flowers, listen to the birds and insects, smell your breath lightly and interpret an ancient legend.
Do you ever remember that the moonlight is hazy and people go to the empty building, and the night is not over.
How many times I called your name in my dream, how many times I complained about lingering with your phone, and how many times I watched Begonia bloom until three in the morning. I want to hold you in my arms. I will hold your hand to watch the sunset and witness the oath of holding your hand and your son to grow old together, no matter the rain or the wind.
Do you ever remember seagulls flying over Dianchi Lake and having a long talk and tears streaming down your face?
Every time I miss you, I feel like crying. You said that men don't flick when they have tears, but I said that's only because they haven't reached the sad place yet. Without you, I really realized the torture of the passage of time and realized that "Chopin, no matter how awesome he is, can't play my farewell." Being apart from you is the most unspeakable sadness for me.
Meeting you is your most beautiful accident this winter; Being apart from you is the most beautiful sadness this winter.
When I miss you, I like to open your diary and look for your clear shadow between the lines; In the dead of night, chew the sadness you give; At the dimly lit intersection, look at the distance where you are.
I don't like melancholy or bitterness, but when I miss you, I always feel that kind of inexplicable sadness, just like that faint homesickness, which is always so quiet and elegant. But it's so charming that it's always hard to give up and forget your flowery smile.
I met you in my most beautiful years, so I cherish every day with you, every word you say and every word you write. I always like to look for courage in your eyes, always like to look for inspiration in your tenderness, and always like to sleep peacefully in your sweet words.
Seeing you is the picture I look forward to most every day. I like watching your smile in the video, listening to your whispers in the headphones, and liking that you appear in every story of mine. When I don't see you, I will always be uneasy, always have tea and rice, and always thin and haggard.
When I think of you, I always smile unconsciously. I will always hold up an oil-paper umbrella for you in my heart, accompany you to see the splendid mountains and rivers, and accompany you to travel around the great rivers and mountains of the motherland. In this romantic place of Shan Ye, I am used to looking up at the distant clouds and holding hands with happiness. If I were a colorful cloud, I would fly to you through the undulating gully.
In the era of Jinse, Bloom left for Qiu Lai in the spring. Time flies, time flies. When I met you, Qian Shan, I missed you so much that I couldn't sleep. You are the most beautiful scenery in my life, my confidante in the golden age, the Iraqi woman I have been searching hard for in ancient poems and songs, and the plainclothes woman living in the prosperous times.
In the golden years, red cherries and green bananas folded into a beautiful acacia.
In the golden years, stand silently in front of the Buddha and pray for your sincere and warm life!