The tung branches are withered and no one is around, the autumn wind is messy and the flowers are withered; the sad cry of the skylark fades away, the dancing soul of the butterfly returns to the lost grass; the smiling face is soft and graceful, and the vicissitudes of life appear, and the sadness is left to guard the heart.
The wheel of time slowly rotates, and as the tung leaves fall, it carries the passing of summer and the coming of autumn, but after all, I cannot sail far away.
The leaves are spinning and flying, but they can't escape people's sight no matter what. Autumn always carries a touch of sadness, leaving behind the shallow nostalgia of late summer.
What was once a sinking fish and a geese, what was once a fleeting time, has now become a vast sea of mulberry fields, buried in the years of cardamom by layers of memories.
Red snow was fluttering on the seventh floor of the necropolis, and the air was mixed with the smell of blood. The cold wind carried the snowflakes into the cave. The fish in the pond looked at them one after another, and the hibiscus in the clear water glanced disdainfully, and the broad lotus leaves stirred
There were waves.
The night rain fell like silk into the dreamland, turning into pearls to pay homage to the stubborn dead souls. In a dark room, Alberto looked out the window expressionlessly, and her tightly knitted hands showed that she was at this moment.
terribly upset.
The old box was unsealed at some point, a pair of yellowed dancing shoes lay quietly inside, unsent cards were filled with longings, and the past events buried deep in my heart emerged one by one.
Years are lingering, and we are unable to sleep. We always have a vague feeling of lovesickness, quietly savoring the rapid passage of time.
The spring breeze blows past our ears, the summer rain is hot and restless, the autumn leaves are red and the sky is red, and the winter snow is biting and cold. Some people can only be passers-by in life. Even if we continue to miss them, in the end all our expectations will become empty.
Some people say that meeting is fate, and meeting but not being together is called fate without separation. Just like how much we like some things, we will only miss them in the end. No matter how attached to some things, in the end we are destined to have deep love and shallow love.
Those who really want to leave will not say goodbye, just like all stories can be re-enacted, but the actors have already changed.
Some thoughts are destined to be buried, and some years are destined to be fleeting. Fate is like this. Sometimes it can't wait no matter how hard it waits, sometimes it comes suddenly, and sometimes it disappears.
If it weren't for a blinding eye, how could there be such a deep obsession? What I thought was a loving relationship, but in the end, only one person was left with an unforgettable love.
Some things are destined to only become memories, and some people are destined to have no connection. We pass by each other's world like passers-by, leaving only deep or shallow footprints along the way.
Love entangled by fate is like a wave in the rough waves. It is fearless when the wind blows and advances rapidly. It disappears when the wind stops.
Compared with the long river of time, a person's life of just a few decades is really too short. It is too short to see all the scenery in the world, too late to realize the ideals and wishes in the heart, too late to chew the bitterness of life, too late
Loving and being loved, there is no time to bloom all the beauty, no time to show your beauty, and they come to the end.
Like the drifting mist dissipating, and like the flowers blooming for a season, the encounter between people is always wonderful. The philosopher Heraclitus once said that people cannot step into the same river twice, because no matter it is this river or this
People have changed beyond recognition.
Memories are like water poured into the palm of our hands. Whether we spread them out or hold them tightly, they will eventually flow from our fingers. Life is a journey with no turning back, and time is our only luggage.
But time is really thin, and when the wind blows, we are separated. Not everyone is suitable for growing old together. Some people are used to grow up, some people are used to live together, and some people need to use it.
I will miss it forever.
People say that you can see clouds in the deep mountains, look at the moon in the clear blue, and meet people on the road of mortals. But the reality is that you can get lost in the deep mountains, the boundless blue is endless, and the edges of the world of mortals are shallow. But in the end, clouds form in the sky, and the moon appears under the sky. They arise and fall.
How can you know love without seeing it...
The audience below the stage watched intently, and the dancers on the stage performed with emotion. The spectators seemed to have transformed into the protagonists, and the protagonists seemed to be mortals.
One day many years ago, we embraced each other passionately, we cried unbearably, we were indignant about the misfortunes in our lives, and we stayed up all night because of our sorrow.
We are unable to fully describe that experience to the world, so we can only outline everything in the past with fragmentary passages.
Those who feel the same can't help but shed sincere tears, while those who cannot appreciate this emotion just stop and watch, looking from a distance, indifferent.
Love has become an instinct, pulling the threads of the soul. The two hearts are like a shadow play, sometimes getting close and sometimes pulling away.
Time occasionally surges like a huge wave, sweeping over everything in the world, or it may rush like a torrent, but it is silent.
The girl once stood on tiptoes, thinking that she could embrace her lover in this way. Her pink lips were incomplete, the figure of a robin was reflected between her eyebrows, the night rain drifted just right, and the rolling thunder continued to explode.
The once joyful dance steps have now turned into painful hesitations. When I open the old books of the years, the past is still vivid in my mind.
The girl's thoughts once drifted across the towering buildings like blue smoke, weaving a curtain of dreams in the brocade-like sky.
Covering your body with silk scarves cannot replace your lover, and tossing and turning can only make your memory hazy. Your former lover has become extremely cold, as cold as ice watching a fire from across the bank.
The girl screamed heartbreakingly, but her voice could not penetrate the vast sea. Therefore, although the two had an oath of love, they still faced each other across the sea.
The charming pupils are blurred, the faith that remains unswerving until death is wavering, the lights on the stage are still bright, but there are no expectations on the familiar seats.
She began to look forward to a life like drama, and began to use selfishness to measure the bottom line of human nature. The flowers bloomed and faded, and the song ended empty, but the girl's mind was still filled with thunderous applause, and the imagined scenes made her feel like a dream, but
The dust has settled but the reality beats the soul.
She was hiding in a bustling city, and the ecstasy of feasting and feasting was the scene of the world. Her thoughts were like silk and couldn't break free, as if there were thousands of iron chains entangled and bound, rusty and mottled memories emerged from time to time, and the dusty reality was bitter and sour.
The embarrassed figure was still shining, and the girl was still standing on the stage, enjoying the admiration of thousands of people, but her expression was extremely cold.
The huge incandescent lamp makes people dizzy, and the girl tries to interpret her life to the full; the curtain behind her is weathered and has been performing beautiful dreams for many years.
The ballet shoes rose slightly again, but the lover I longed for had long been reduced to nothing. The pianist's fingers kept beating, and the beautiful music sounded like a death knell.
The voice of my lover is always stirring in my mind, sometimes turning into waves that roll high and high, sometimes turning into strong wine that makes people confused. A red bean grows quietly against the light, praying that the wind and rain will treat it gently, and that the frost will never meet.
Since we have the concept of "time", we have continued to experience encounters and farewells. When we give the "concept of time" to all existences, we have growth; when we place the "concept of time" in life, we have
Life; when we give ourselves the "concept of time", we become disappointed.
We experience more and more "one period and one moment" as we grow up, and what accumulates in our hearts are layers of melancholy and hesitation...
When she woke up, Gloria was still standing in front of the core of the hub with a serious expression. Alberto shook his head and slowly broke away from the dream. However, now she had no time to think about it, so she could only stay with Gloria.