A bumpy life often lies in its bumpy wisdom and maturity. Through the long river of history, I went to find and discover the beautiful things in life, and I swam the torrent of growth. I struggled to explore, to set the greatness of those lives, tears streaming down my face.
On second thought, I can't help feeling that a person's life is like a trip, and everyone is trudging with heavy burdens. Running is the course of life, and most importantly, behind those running postures is people's indelible pursuit of life! Looking back, looking sideways, and looking intently, the value of life shines. During the journey, we ran, leaving more or less traces, chasing the sun, chasing the waves, chasing life, and chasing the brilliant summer flowers in our hearts with a unique mood. Bloom as brightly as summer flowers. Change your life with my three fireworks.
I am young, and I am young.
The street is long and there are many fireworks. You look back with lights.
Short pavilion is short, the world of mortals is rolling, and I sigh again.
Who finally broke the string, the flower fell on the shoulder, trance blurred.
How many beauties have been worn out and how many pieces of acacia have been broken, leaving only blood-stained ink to cry in chaos.
The vast land is broken with a sword, and the prosperity is gone. Leaning against the clouds hides loneliness, even if others laugh at me.
Let him know everything and smile for you.
Send a song to you, don't invite people to get together at the end of the song.
Who scattered the smoke, who scattered the vertical and horizontal ties.
Listen to the string and break three thousand infatuations. Falling flowers, forgetting, once the wind rippled. If the flower is pitiful, it will fall on whose fingertips.
There are trees on the mountain and branches on the tree. My heart likes you. You don't know that.
Whoever forgets each other first, dumping the country is the old country. I refuse to play. Shadows are amazing.
Once upon a time, there were tall buildings that sang at night and had dancing sleeves on them.
When all the flowers and waves are gone, I will be alone with you.
Still water, singing; Three lives are sunny and round, one sad and one happy.
Lights and stars, sounds and songs are endless.
As beautiful as flowers and pure as jade, I can go back to the past, but I can't go back to the beginning.
Dark clouds cover the moon, people can't see anywhere, and they can't tell how lonely they are.
This time I left you, it was the wind, the rain and the night; You smiled, I waved, and a lonely road spread to both ends.
The sky is not old, and the love is hard to break. The heart is like a double screen with a Qian Qian knot in it.
Like this star is not last night, for whom the wind and dew stand in the middle of the night.
Finally, the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River covered the whole world. After the glory of China, it was just a scene, and the mountains and rivers were silent forever.
Elegance refers to quicksand, and old age is a period of time.
Several sighs, generations of joys and sorrows, ridiculous, life is up to me.
After a fleeting dream, I went back to the water to watch the fireworks bloom into a full moon.
The fog cleared and I woke up. I finally saw the truth. This is the silence that Qian Fan spent.
At both ends of life, we stood on each other's shore.
The fate of gathering and parting is like water, just for a word, waiting for the next encounter.
Looking at the sun and the moon that day, there was silence. Green mountains and green waters, stretching from generation to generation; Just like in my heart, you never left, never changed.
Never look back, why not? Since there is no chance, there is no need to call names. Today, everything is like water. Tomorrow night, you will be a stranger.
My heart is moving, but I feel far away. Things are wrong, people are wrong, things are wrong, and the past cannot be traced.
Maybe it's the marriage in the last life, maybe it's the fault in the next life. Meeting in this life will only increase fruitless resentment.
One day goes by every year, and autumn goes by. One generation urges the next generation to get together and leave, one is happy and one is sad, one is lying on the sofa, one is looking for a group of acquaintances in life and one is dreaming. He will know each other for a while, play for a while and sing for a while.
Always born in a casual year. Look back at the other side. Even if it is found that the situation is longer.
A kind of forbearance is actually a kind of strength, and a kind of silence is actually a shocking confession.
Just because I think, when I look back on you, I miss your dynasty and dusk.
Drink a glass, drink snow, and be at a loss for another year.
Turning around, a wisp of Leng Xiang was far away, the snow was deep and the smile was shallow. Will you fight me in the afterlife?
The fate of dust has always been like water, and it is rare to shed tears. Why do you do your best? Don't be sentimental, love to hurt yourself.
Who should be robbed by whom, who has been obsessed. The historical story made the guqin Song Guangling III famous all over the world, and the performance of the historical celebrity Ji Kang made the guqin Song Guangling III famous all over the world. The east wind is warm and the piano sounds new. The green of summer pervades the white screen window. Accompanied by this piece of music, the familiar small courtyard seems to land in an unusual alley, the smoke from kitchen chimneys blows slowly, the small building is in a milky dream, and the piano pops up with infinite pride and vitality, playing the forgotten vicissitudes of life. At night, accompanied by music, we people who like words cross the ocean of words and taste the pleasure that words bring us after reading. Although some words are only a few words, they let us find an eternal way, and they gently tap our hearts in the deep heart.
Words are a perceptual world, just like a woman who loves words, and likes to dress up the lace of words with dreamy feathers! Fingertips twist lightly, but you can't twist Zen words. The short words knocked down by the letter pen are just small happiness tidbits, not lengthy. Even if life is simple, it will bloom like a flower at the right temperature! Simple, faint purple rhyme. I was moved by other people's words and then stayed away from those thin words! Fingertips pass through a bunch of flowers, and before the flowers fall, there are poems between the lines. The wind blows into your eyes, and light makeup is always appropriate! Standing at the intersection where we met, it was raining all the way, and the fragrance was full!
The memory of a stranded season gradually faded away in this season of flowers overflowing, looking for traces vaguely left in my mind, and I slowly combed my thoughts. In countless memories, my heart is always dull pain. Maybe I really can't get rid of everything about you. But I have to choose to remember silently. Deep memories have already evolved into wordless pain, but they can't get rid of it when they are stuck in the body. Unexpectedly, when a helpless bitterness began to haunt me, the more I wanted to get rid of it, the deeper my memory became. This dark and clear worry kept me struggling in the past, trying to get rid of all the disappointments and avoid talking about the absurdity of the world of mortals, but I never had the courage. With this ambivalence, I once again left myself in the past. In nothingness, I carefully touched the curtain of memory. Unexpectedly, an unintentional glance reminded me of the past. ? In the vast abyss of memory, I look for the feelings I cherish in my heart again and again, and my constant busyness has already exhausted me. It's just that this unrepentant heart insists again and again, insisting that there is no redemption period. Quietly staring at the sky in a daze, perhaps it is the inner loneliness at work, watching the dark clouds roll in the gray sky and counting the inner loneliness carefully, perhaps it is also a kind of silent sadness. In silence, I think about the past over and over again, but I don't know how to dive in the gaps left in my mind. ?
With a flick of a pen, I will dispel the last lingering amorous feelings at the end of the pen, stop writing at the bustling place of 3,000, stay away from the worldly glitz with a bunch of heart injuries, and silently laugh at the bumpy road of the world of mortals. From then on, I am no longer crazy about you. ?
The thread in the hand of a kind mother makes clothes for her wayward children. Before leaving, I had a stitch for fear that my son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged. But how much love has an inch of grass, and it is rewarded with three spring rays. " Meng Jiao, a poet in the Tang Dynasty, experienced ups and downs, poverty and sadness, but his mother's smile always lingered in his mind. Knowing his mother's future, he couldn't hide the smile on his face, couldn't restrain the joy in his heart, shook off the tired wind and frost on the top of his clothes, brushed away the dust accumulated in his heart, and took his wife and children to meet his mother outside Liyang City. Green grass, fragrant flowers, white clouds and clear rivers are filled with endless thoughts of my son. Mother and son depend on each other, with tears in their eyes, holding their mother's warm hand and looking at her old face. They couldn't help crying and were filled with emotion. Under Meng Jiao's pen, this poem "Ode to a Wanderer", full of maternal love, was melted and cast, sincere and profound, and passed down for thousands of years.
Du Fu, a poet in the Tang Dynasty, lived in exile all his life. After the Anshi Rebellion, I returned to my hometown, and the countryside was deserted, and things were different. Bitter and sad, seeing things hurt the body, he combined the feelings of worrying about the country and the people with the feelings of missing his mother, and wrote a touching Homelessness. "Forever pain long sick mother, five years committee ditch creek. I was born weak and sour about life. Life is homeless, why steam! " The words are sad and sad enough to make people feel generous and shed tears for generations.
At the end of the Eastern Han Dynasty, Cai Wenji was taken captive to Xiongnu by mutinous soldiers and left his hometown, and Wan Li fled. When they were redeemed by China's envoy, the mother and son said goodbye, tears filled their eyes, and relatives and friends said goodbye, which made them sad. She wrote in Poems of Mourning Anger: "I have freed my life, so I should abandon my son. Heaven belongs to composers, and there is no meeting time for reading ... no. Crying hands caress when you answer doubt. " Sad, sad, sad voice, it makes people cry. People in the Tang dynasty once wrote Hu Jia's songs on this topic, which seemed to cry rather than cry, and a strong feeling of mother and son permeated the tune.