Poetic ancient style is perfect at the beginning of the composition 1, and the drizzle is not worrying, and the riding wind is getting stronger and stronger. Roll up your sleeves and roll down the cloud pool. Drunk, drunk, shrouded in mist, willow branches swaying in the rain, always like Liu in makeup, spotless, can not help but pick up jasper, drunk wind, drunk rain, drunk dream, quietly listening to the whispers of raindrops. A kind of sadness deeply touched the immature memory. A sour, somewhat sad poem.
2. Look at each other and love each other. Wood said enthusiastically. The harp invited me to listen. Make me happy and bring Yuanyang. Love each other. Upside down, a rare conversation. Lan Guiqifang, head of Guilin River. Express my feelings, long companion.
3, pale, a piece of paper, a piece of paper, a dream, a cold, a piece of paper, a sadness, second, Klook dreams of heaven, the Mid-Autumn Moon; Who is the red makeup? It was a bleak dream, full of autumn water, half moon, lonely hope, rustling, stinging cold wind, dull pain, singing to wine, tears scattered in yellow dreams, ink fragrance, floating moon, butterfly language, vaguely meaning.
4. After the rain, Lanting dreams of shore. Still water, hazy wind. Before the color screen blooms, light smoke attracts swallows through the clouds ... not drunk with the breeze, Cao Suitian. Suzuki is deep, Naruto. Dewdrops are crystal clear, tropical rain forest flowers are in full bloom ... light dance steps, swaying dreamy tea fragrance. The recent flowers, incense and aromatherapy are intoxicating. Sunset red, breeze Funing River. Laughing and playing the flute, drunk and dreaming quietly in front of the flowers, the fragrance has always been very satisfying. ..
5, finger scroll, knowledgeable, beside the tree in front of the window, graceful and snowy, dressed in plain clothes, if Liu Fufeng, in the foggy south of Wan Li, softly sings that both China and India are singing a pure heart. Holding a jade grease pen, washing the secular heart with ink, leaning on the column to draw a bridge, caressing a touch of autumn sorrow, stepping on ink, leaving only a shadow in the misty rain.
Excellent composition selection 1, read this life, the years when the wind and smoke fly, hold hands with the world and condense into love stories. Two dependent flowers, you are my only warm, non-negative, prosperous and lingering lips. That day, the sky was gloomy, just like my mood. Step on the broken sadness and close your eyes. I can't remember your complete smile. The Millennium world of mortals is full of endless sadness at this moment, and my world begins to snow.
You are my tenderness, and the fragrance on the pillow warms my attachment to life in the moonlight. A stream of autumn water is in my eyes, and my thoughts are in my eyebrows. Under the long moon, I am still a woman in my dream, with long hair fluttering, colorful and dancing. And thousands of miles away, whether it is a sword chanting, the snow of victory, a clear smile.
I spent my whole youth, but I couldn't get out of the long rainy season. I sang all the way, looked back and remembered it again, and shed more tears. I will turn my heart into a dewdrop, perch on the broad leaves in my dream, sleep deeply, and wake me up in the morning of my next life. Then, in this life, you can let me settle down, return my plain heart to the bright moon, be as warm as jade, and let my eyes flow, just like Yingying when I first met you.
4. The rustling sky and endless sadness become a thousand knots in whose piano music? The moon falls and cries, and the Millennium wind and frost sings? When a smile causes infatuation, it is doomed that on earth, we will experience a thousand years of entanglement with you. Tonight, I can't help but indulge in the dawn of my previous life. The lotus root is deep, the willow tree shade, the rain tower in the fog is still the vast sea.
5, a wisp of smoke, curling up, green water flying, catkins fluttering. Floating life is like a dream, quiet as water, not courtship and sadness, just wish you a beautiful life, the past is weathered, and this life is bitter. No matter rain or snow, we just want to get drunk together, fill the wandering for half a life, and bid farewell to infatuated resentment. Peeling off and full of scars, waiting for the phoenix to nirvana, I hope it will be desolate, I can post it on paper, and I hope this life can be related to clothes.