Text/Sunset Thin

The book list is yellow, and there is a shallow crack in the ballpoint pen you gave me.

When people are gone, their memories are sometimes blurred and sometimes clear. If a person has to endure a long past, then sadness is the cocoon silk woven by years, trapping the heart and releasing the alienation from the world.

You are alienated and left out, and life is like fine water and dust in silence. Smiling at you may be a luxury.

An easy separation, no goodbye, when you turn around, just like a stranger.

There is a friendship that lasts forever. Dumas' La Traviata was deeply planted in each other's territory when it was staged.

You foresaw separation before me. Your melancholy eyes refused all the infiltration of enthusiasm.

Sing in front of the mountain, you sing goodbye. Playing the piano by the stream, you wrote seven parting strings. The string is the first quarter moon, and the heart is the grass. A friendship drama that should have been vigorous was cut constantly by you, and the reason was still chaotic, and finally it was interpreted as a broken painting.

Bloom can't see the leaves, and the leaves are ugly. You said that death is the ultimate passion of human beings.

However, you and I are just deep.

Flowers and leaves don't meet, but they care for each other from generation to generation. And you, I don't want to forget a bustling fireworks.

That year, you marked me with blood. That year, you talked at night on the willow branches on the wall. That year, the river was rowing on its own, and the harp was raining in the autumn pool. That year, we went through a long and short journey of time and space together.

Crossing is the fate of the world. When you pass by, you will write it in the book. In a chilly spring season, tidbits fly without wind and perch on the branches of birds. You are a supernatural thing in fireworks, and you drift gracefully from the window inadvertently.

I wash ink and pen, and I brush petals with brewed tea. I decided to draw you the most beautiful picture in the world.

Bathe hibiscus with clean water. Lake Lian Jie was born in the heart. You can be compared to the unparalleled light training in the world, and you can also regard Lan Lian as the highest point of your painting. When you came, plain clothes was a fairy, with a world of mortals and a lock of black hair on the strings of the pipa. It was beautiful beyond description.

Bloom is a word; The wind is blowing, it's a song. You cut clouds for practice and pull clouds for poetry. You look back at the whole city, holding a cup of morning tea, writing about the Spring and Autumn Period, inking misty rain, and tapping Bibo with your wrist. In that rainy and snowy autumn and cold winter, if the world in April is warm and gentle, all the drama scenes are embedded in the world of mortals.

There you are. One room is warm in spring, bloom. You go, cool thin tea, no one to accompany * * *. You and I are like flowing water in full bloom. We keep our natural direction, bloom is at ease, and the flowing water is not bad. We don't have Lei Zhen's eternal vows in winter, but we have silent time to stare at each other.

I am on the bridge and you are in the water. That pool of mirrors and flowers is the most beautiful silhouette of your life.

You said that keeping one side quiet is the best way to go through customs in the field of spiritual practice. No matter how beautiful the world is, all beings are just passing by in a hurry. Come and go for only a hundred years. Everything is invisible. You cultivate yourself in Xiu De. You are spotless, but you still hold clouds in your hands, make a wisp of bones and draw bamboo as the body.

At this time, late at night, smoke rose.

Moody came home late, and Bai Yueguang arrived as scheduled.

Mountain road, exposed, shallow mud. Roadside, faint fragrance.

You set out from the mountain, wearing a veil and lightly wrapping your forehead. I look at you if you look at the most beautiful painting in the world.

You're here. Don't say anything. Mountains and rivers are happy, you carved your heart with branches, moonlight is paper, and you carved the oath of the city. You wrote "Bo Ya Zi Period". Piano can fly without wind. Two strands are opposite to each other.

You are white, but I can't be Hua.

The sound of flowers falling is exhausted.

Everything in the world, the result is instantaneous.

Love fades when it is deep. With a Qian Qian knot in my heart, it's hard to beat the moment when the bustling world ends. No matter how strange we meet, there will be a cold day.

You don't say a word, turn around and leave. On the day you left, there was a slight snow in the moonlight.

There are some karma that need no reason to explain. Like you, like me. You didn't hesitate to disappear from my sight.

Meeting is the continuation of past lives; Separation is the fate of this life is empty.

I am on the bridge, looking at the water, there is no moon in the water.

The world is dark and I can't see the light. Just like when you leave, you take away all the light.

I went to the world of ice and snow, and the ice was still cold. A snow lotus in the valley, you Zi Ling cold proudly open.

I went boating in the middle of the river, and the black wind was still tight at night. There is nothing on the river. Don't smell fishing songs.

"Without me, you will be lonely all your life." Just kidding, can't a word actually become a fiber?

Murphy, have I ever let you down?

One day, one month, one year, many years have passed. I wove the brocade book into a thin ruler. I cut the tea into thousands of strands. I cook snow and carve ink. Every night when Bai Yueguang gets up, I write countless letters.

I want you to know that butterflies in the sea, without you, I never expect to fly over mountains and rivers. Wan Li Jiang, you are the shallowest and heaviest sum.

That day, I drew a ghost net and sent it to you.

I played with two birds, stayed at Bingshi at night, and asked you out in January that year.

I played "the color fan covers the pink, and the garden holds the wine glass". I stood on the bridge as a pulse, waiting for you, that year.

Year after year, your voice disappeared. I can't wait for you. I lost face. However, my soul will never dare to grow old.

Because, I want to present the initial and final enthusiasm and perfection to you. I believe in consistency.

However, the night in Bai Yueguang came again, and the broken tea was cold.

This night is bustling and lonely.

You are like a ray of surprise, smiling in the crowd.

Your smile can still kill people's hearts.

How can you look back and smile when all the flowers in the sky are in full bloom? How can I compete with the fragrance of your lips in the street ten miles away?

The heavens and the earth collapsed. I heard a broken voice: Are you here? Long-lost you

You are still you, absolutely beautiful, absolutely good. You cling to a book of songs and walk in the clouds. On your chest, there is a halo cross to save all beings from suffering.

I see roses blooming quietly beside you.

Some people say that all encounters in the world are reunions after a long separation.

And you and I, only a Bai Yueguang time, but separated by a century.

Brocade is still hard to believe, wrong wrong!

Selected works of recommended monographs: With you, I will be quiet all my life.