When the first ray of the wind alexander hera wedding, blows over his brow. Thoughts of dignified, into a smoke drifting into the distance. Just then, unusual. Canthus tears shed, just know, dream has left, nowhere is belong to the state. Only sigh sentence, if life only such as first, where the sad autumn wind painting fan.
Every changan, penning in one thousand. Is for ground from ruin, there are too many unfamiliar faces in the strange city. The rush of the crowd on too many joys and sorrow, clutch and too much. In such a world of mortals stranger, depressing air suffocating, life is like a backwater. And I can only try to let my heart more indifferent, more vitality. In a pure and fresh morning, bubble up a pot of good tea, incense is in tea, fade away the secular once. Or, shallow books several time, started sleeping birds put pen to paper and just know the time in a hurry a person easy to old. Ruthless years, old too much young appearance. Time is one of the best sculptors, carved on a statue of a young face of so many patches of absolute. Once dazed and confused, and gradually become white silence. Perhaps, a night, because of a certain kind of dream woke up suddenly, just know, dream, flower has left.
On the Banks of a brook turbulence alexander hera pre wedding, together with a pot of hot wine, sitting quietly at the shore. In three cups of two weak drinks, see all the three thousand prosperous thing in the world. Fish lights in the distance has been gradually light up. Come the sounds of laughter in the air. Perhaps this moment is happiness in the world. Ring walked along the shore and gently on the river boat, listen to a break, listen to the wind and sound. Only drinks a cup, drawing thousands of ruin. Firm but gentle moonlight, penetrate into his chest, and you'll know "toast to invite the moon, the shadow into three people". Deep breath, only to find that, cold has been persecuted. Wine and variable unstrained wine or liquor, yesterday once more tears, sorrow. Smile myriad world of mortals drunk once, stranger. Drunk once, dream is power times rise and fall. Said a word, dream has left, where is belong to the state.
Sunny afternoon, the wind to remember some of the past, just remember, when the young appearance. A never rot of love. Who were frighted sadness, tears stream down fall. The remaining gentle, like touching the drizzle, playing in my mind. Dry, fade not to go. The fingers touching the tender feelingalexander hera pre wedding, on the one thousand waiting for you. Iii's bitter promise before, only the most beautiful meet. Perhaps, is not met. Really worth it, in one thousand in exchange for low eyes met. Love and not love, love what, do not love what? Rather, play a song of pipa break ten thousand years of waiting. Cabin in the woods, wild life time, wait until the head of white hair. A wisp of the collection of moss, has gradually grow old. Flowers of the helpless, perhaps will slowly thanks to in my dream. Know the, the dream has been wake up, the flower has been falling.
The drizzle outside the window, a trickle delimit falls, the closed heart, is more than the water overflow. Perhaps, sad too much, too painful. One thousand years the wind, forget the original appearance. Ageless fantasy, lonely wheatgrass, insolent don't open the tender. Memories of moss is like previous expectations, the familiar voice, in the ears, the same promise. Perhaps, one day, the wind and cloud change, everything becomes so pale. The sky the lingering with light rain, shaking hands, not tight gray shadow. The corner of the eyes, tears more than, screamed at the top of voice, face is obliged to leave. Maybe this life decree by destiny no portion. Cheat with myself and a next life, next life together again, to see the water out. Has been rain, the heart has been hurt, want to forget all, only to find that those memories had firmly in mind, engraved on the mind. Can't miss you, hate you has to meet stinging pain. Follow in the past, one day, will become so insignificant, so the wind light cloud light. Sober, he realized that the left will never go, never stop to go. All over the sky of the flower dance, and was buried with a waiting for you.
Life is like a dream, the dream life. Wait whose hands may be missed. Originated because out, waiting for the tender, one thousand change don't come I look back. Forget, light not to go. The trembling in one thousand, the ten thousand years of waiting for you. The wind blows cloud falls, days become so haggard, not the friction of time. Under the umbrella of stay, turned to tears, wet my heart. Maybe, this is a feeling, perhaps, this is life. Perhaps, this is the ten million years of bitter change before the promise of a gorgeous turn around. Beautiful encounter, no, gentle. Young time, always can not stand the rains, slowly, everything became so insignificant. Perhaps, to cry, lost. Years, the fewer who waiting for you, spring is so beautiful, the time, many who stay, harvest moon circle still.