时间，让深的东西越来越深 ，让浅的东西越来越浅。夜色阑珊，一席清辉，温柔缱绻 。我于月下执笔伏案 ，以相识为墨，相知为笺，深深落笔 ，书一阕相思如丹词，句句意切，字字凝咽。
烟锁清秋 ，几卷荷风微送，心头掠过一丝凉意。思绪，也随之蔓延开来 。
月光如水 ，却难掩清冷的寂瑟。爱恨情仇的悱恻，在七弦琴上跳动，和着飘渺的笛音 ，澄澈了滚滚红尘。
心绪忽地陷入一种温柔的伤感情怀里，不是被动，也不是忧悒 ，而是一种流连 。
于是，我们一路跌跌撞撞，一路擦肩而过 。忘记了痛 ，忘记了回眸。
爱 ，则在心口处盛开出蔷薇花。看似娇艳，实则荼蘼 。
淡月幽篁，隔窗摇曳 ，笔瘦指柔 。我于月下，清点过去的岁月；于字里行间，寻找你的踪影。
青山碧水间 ，你乘一叶扁舟，踏浪而来，携千年等待，又万古相思 ，赴今生之约。
你说，你是我不曾知晓的兵荒马乱 ，我是你不曾触及的倾城温柔 。
念你 ，有时面若桃花，有时潸然泪下 。而此刻，我却不悲不喜。
一如这轻轻柔柔的风 ，这涓涓淙淙的乐曲 。
之于你我 ，或许这样安然离开，便是最好的结局 。纵然红尘陌路，总是曾经遇见 ，日后，风雨飘摇，也好。
待到老时，回首经年，曾经一起听过鸟鸣，一起等过花开 ，一起看过月圆的人，也许早已离你远去 。
时间煮雨，往事如雨。那些已经久远了的，那些美好的人 ，那些只是对某些人而言的事，都被时间煮成雨水，浇灌一切新生 ，覆盖昨日的灿烂 。
懂得了花开自有花谢的道理 ，亦然明了曾经和过去 。永远到底有多远，完美的世界没有永远。
往事如烟，关于过去 ，关于故事，都将被流年一送再送，一远在远。从此 ，山河永寂 。
别后余生，依旧是烟雨几度吹斜阳，依旧将你在我的文字里 ，迎来 、送走。
Time, let the deep things get deeper, let shallow things are getting more and more shallow. The night is gentle, a suggestion, gentle. I wrote a question in the moon, with a knowledge as ink, knowing the notes, deeply dropped, and the book is like a Dan word, the sentence is intention, and the words are gel.
Inadvertent, it is a beautiful memory, so that my thoughts can't stop the heavy footsteps.
The inexplicable joy is inexplicably in the heart. The days turned into a blossoming text, and I will miss it.
Smoke lock in the autumn, several rolls of the wind, the heart, the heart brushed a slender. Thoughts, it also spreads.
Moonlight is like water, but it is difficult to cover cold silence. Love hates the embarrassment, jump on the seven strings, and the ethereal flute, clear red dust.
The mood is in a gentle injury, not passive, nor is it worry, but a streamlined.
The old wine that has been fermented by a glass of graphic shadows in time, as 如 如..
When you pick up the year, it is still shallow pain.
The life of life, the more you missed, you can't stop.
So, we fell all the way, all the way. Forgot the pain, forget the back.
Also thinks that you can stop yourself in front. So, we will go all the way, all the way.
When you meet too beautiful, you can't set it off. We have a lunarity of the vicissitudes all the way.
Love, the rose flower is opened at the heart. It seems that it is beautiful, and it is true.
We pass, interlaced, from both ends of the world, is already strange. Tap, let the memories are broken.
Time is in a hurry, we will only be a Hongru.
Close all the hearts, alone, open a window, is strong? Is it stubborn? Order or confused?
The night of the moonlight, one piece of paper, I use words, gently call you ...
I don't know when, I am used to alone, I don't bother, I don't bother, not bother .
It is used to sitting in front of the computer, a light is like a bean, the heart is snowing, and it is looking for a soul.
The moon is swaying, the window swaying, the pen is thin. I am in the month, in the past years; in the word line, look for your trace.
Qingshan clear water, you take a leaf boating, the waves come, bring thousands of years waiting, ever thinking, going to this life.
Tang poetry, you are full of affection, heavy in the landscape, step on the flat rhyme, walk into my heart.
You said that you are the soldiers that I have never known, I am a gentle city you never touched.
Moonlight is in the city, who is with me apricot, piercing to Tianming?
There are some people in life, but they have no time to meet;
I met, but I didn't have time to meet; I met, but I didn't have it to be familiar; familiar, but I still have to say goodbye.
Alternatively, everything has a set.
The fate is, then the gathering; the edge, it is scattered. It is also impossible for it at all.
If you are obsessed with a city, it is to leave.
Time is like sand, outside the city, who is dyed? Who cares about me full of wind?
Read you, sometimes the peach blossom, sometimes tears. At this moment, I am not sad.
One night, Ying Yue is full,
If the tide thoughts are infiltrated in Zhan Zhanqing, a bone's feelings are filled, long-awaited, smile, do not want wake up.
As this gently soft wind, this tricky music.
When everything has been spread, who can accompany the king to laugh 3,000, do not ask for it?
When I stroked the river in the years, I only touched the endless lonely soul and infinitely confused emotions. I still hope that at the end of the year, pick up that soft.
If you don't know, you want, I will give it, is it the same feelings.
It's for you, maybe it's the best ending. Even if the red dust is strange, I have always met, in the future, the wind and rain are shaken.
I only have a place in my heart, I think of it, I can't release it.
I can't hide the secret, and I can't hide the sadness. As I can't hide the joy, I can't hide the separation.
Seeing and disappearing, all in your heart.
Do you want to see if you can listen to the fingertips?
I have begun full of vicissitudes, but I can't wait for you.
I have started to come to Yan Dong, can you know?
I hope that he meets each other, flowers to the past ...
Bai Lu Mei said,
Personal life is very short, we can do, just don't leave too many regrets when you live.
What kind of story will happen as for the coming life, no one knows.
When I got old, I went back to the year, I have heard birds, waiting for the flowers together, and I have seen the moon together, maybe I have already left you away.
Those who have a good look at it, and the promise of water is also a shortcoming of a short thing.
Time is boiled, the past is like rain. Those who have long been long, those beautiful, those who are only for some people, are cooked into rain, water all new students, covering yesterday's splendid.
Opened the wrinkles of the years, I have long been standing on a tree.
is eager to be drunk, and the moon is in the moon, and it is fear that it is three people.
Huning, a lotus is as good as flow, it is lightWith inclusive. Accelerated in the past and accepts the future.
Huning is known, knowing how to let love.
Know that the truth of spending from Huayi is also clear, and it has been in the past. How far is forever, the perfect world is not always.
The habits I have encountered, I heard that I miss, just, please don't say forever.
The past is like smoke, about the past, about the story, will be sent by the year, a long distance. Since then, the mountain river is always lonely.
After another, the rest is still a few degrees of smoke, still in my text, ushered in my text.
And I will always, even if you are lonely into the sea ...
Green grass leave,
moon night Song Jun Trinidad,
and so on in the coming year, the autumn wind ......
- listen to "time to cook rain" felt authors: Pik days
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