Wen: Nuoxue Tung Yu

Dawn a wisp of Yang, light into the eyes, miss Bibi Qing fell in the past, light drag on good dust, the charm, the bits of another season of sorrow of reincarnation, only language sing in the ring off branches, ink book is half crazy, the stacked leisurely affair, such as water and air spirit like heart, dance as the southern half of the city smoke dust, floating dream Xiaoyao subversion of the dust-laden memory, touch my heart, an instant moment bloom, winter white light rhyme ...

Only a short while ago countless times played in life field from the song, in the fleeting time fantasy and trace, fans ruin a party wall, shower in the early winter morning, through the window lattice, masculing rhyme with dew are dyed a Chinese dance clothes, diffuse morning feeling dizzy ...

Elapsing autumn winter welcome, the flowers are butterfly passing, let me once again sigh in that year winter, time is like an hourglass, memory like yesterday, fragment as playback landing the dust has long past, yellow pages also faintly visible when new survived, but smart field laughter Huan in the wind dance forest, in the dust in the snow dance two people everywhere, once eternal commitment, as a wandering the dream, the dream that year in the South west.

Clouds slightest whisper it Xinyu, Piaofei lingering in the dream of blue ocean, even in the Cape horizon. Smoke condensate water Ying overflow with a touch of sadness, dense was suffused with Sao tease him, revealing a melancholy beauty, in the wind swaying fibrillation Wei, overdrawing life color sensibility, scattered some floating back and forth?

Mark down a bit dizzy, around the Millennium silk, light spill sad between the eyebrows deeply embedded the touch of soft, wet all hidden heart miss, I brush at the fingertips of cardamom years, light to draw a wind break, the Red Road, splash a sad bead curtain, dust everywhere the injury, along the way, I have never repent, blame only themselves to blame too greed red wine.

Each point of an ink, have touched a chord, wandering in the dim of pity and love in the heart for a long time, read the wash, no never, every article is a painting, but painting soul is deep in my heart, dharana fingertip every pen ink Danqing, are feeling gratitude every way, lost in the dream of freedom, never change.

Recall this season turns to frost, the obsession with a timeless, with bright flowers, sat watching the falling sigh, waiting for the coming year and season of green grass court.

Like a person listening to sad music, enjoy quiet in early winter streets, looking at the winding the Qinhuai River in letter Fu River, looking at the stack the pavilion Qiaojiao, sedimentary years of vicissitudes of life, Liao River wisps of smoke around the Huai wave, bursts of breeze, Miao dance hemitropous, dreamlike, added to a sad, a melancholy. Stare at the white gas wire winter rhyme light shout, hand greed to want to capture, but has aery without a trace, lost without trace ...

Winter beauty lies in its purity, orphaned cold Ao Mei will stay put, preparing the peerless beautiful state article reads this season's white, each flower petals in the memory, in full bloom is so brilliant dazzling, plum, there are thousands of knot, write you my once, you and me. First, he wrote the song, it was by chance in one's whole life, carrying the expectations, the years of one's whole life now seems still so feeble.

That year the winter snow color filled with snow, coagulation, antecedents, look forward to your direction, years after the ice wind printed in the past, precipitation of the crystal becomes instant throbbing, smile of fate, but God is its own, all running in it some of the track.

Looking at the size of the falling leaves, the bare branches, a thin layer of white veil, quietly over the south of the Yangtze River every inch of muscle, but already feel today is no longer yesterday's pages.

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