The flower on the other side blooms in memories but fades away. The fruit on this shore is in full bloom, but lost in memories. My girlfriend’s QQ signature! Solve

Meaning: The flower of the other shore is a memory of the past, but the sadness is also in the memory. The second half of the sentence is synonymous. You search for the flowers of the other side in "flowers of the other side". For whom the flowers bloom, and for whom they bloom.

For whom the flowers bloom, and for whom they bloom. . .

I woke up from the dream, my heart was cold, and I was lost. I helplessly scooped up my palms full of emptiness and stared at the empty hands. From then on, I no longer believed in heaven or ---. . .

It turns out that many of them are lies, the real pain, understanding the heart, losing everything, and the world of mist.

That one, for whom the flowers bloom. . .

The flowers withered, and there was no reason to bloom again, because there was no light, and the soul was torn to pieces in the sky, and gradually, it was forgotten day by day. . .

Life is sometimes like a kind of torture. You fall in the torture, sink in the fall, sink and wake up again, but the result is doubled pain and torture.

The icy cold wind, the dry sky, and the coolness between the fingers are felt in my heart. Is it because the fingers are connected to the heart, or is it the original feeling. The wind came and took away the longing; the rain stopped and brought sadness; with a wave of my hand, the wind blew away the straight lines of the phase. Later, I found that there were only two parallel lines left, one to the left and one to the right. There is never a point.

The flower of the other shore blooms in memories, but is defeated by flowers. The fruit on this shore is blooming in full bloom, but it is lost in memories. The flowers bloom for whom they wither, and the flowers wither for whom they bloom. The sadness that comes from memories, prosperity comes to an end, and the tunnel of memories is stranded. The cold wind outside the window and the low atmosphere buried the melancholy dimness on the street corner.

The leaves are falling in a hurry and it is a hazy season. Once upon a time, I was drunk for whom, crazy for whom, sad for whom, and heartbroken for whom. The falling fireworks carry the loneliness in the heart. It was too silly, as absurd as a joke, and the fire of nothingness burned my heart and silenced my answer. The dusty memory was awakened coldly, the silence was dark, and with eyes closed, one could only feel the darkness of space. Burying the pain of memory, the cold wind blew by, scattering dust on the ground...

How far is forever, even if you have company, you will inevitably feel lonely sometimes. It's a moment, but it takes a lifetime to forget. It's very happy, but sometimes it's also very painful. You left indifferently, with no attachment to your simple back. The distance was too far away. I stood at the starting point, heartbroken and aching. I couldn't trace the footsteps in the distance. I was at a loss. I couldn't get it, but I had already lost it. Ends of the world, passers-by in a hurry, the muddy land, when will the fallen leaves return to their roots, the ships on the other shore, drifting, searching, searching, and never docking. . .

Whoever gets drunk in the frost forest at dawn will always shed tears. Tears, feeling too tired, to vent or indulge, but the reason is so real and false, so vague. The breeze blows at the abandoned ashes, watching over the passing years. I gave up the everlasting attachment, leaving behind the dust of a lifetime, the hope around the corner, and extinguished on the wandering road. I just wanted to be quiet, but I could only be silent. Looking back to the past, the road I came from did not belong to me, and everything was no longer right or wrong.

The sadness remaining in the corners of the eyes touches the string of longing, heartache, heartache and ignorance. Abandoning the broken soul, struggling to wake up from the dream, the flowers are still as red, and the sky is as blue as before, but I feel that the distance between heaven and earth is getting farther and farther, and I even lose my own direction. The haggard face looks even worse after being washed by the wind and rain. Too unbearable.

One leaf knows autumn, and the falling dead leaves are flying slowly, disturbing the quiet thoughts. With the support of the tree, the leaves no longer drift. What the wind takes away is the longing or the sadness that was left on the ground. It picks up the settled heart, closes the eyes and feels the feelings, and sighs sadly.

It’s the wandering season again. Winter is coming, can the sky be far behind? The flowers have withered, but for whom they will bloom again. . .

What I see is extinguished and what disappears is remembered. I stand at the end of the world and hear the soil bud, waiting for the epiphyllum to bloom again, leaving its fragrance to the years. There is no lighthouse on the other side. I still look at the sky. The sky is dark and my hair is white, and I am holding on tightly. The fire came to him and I said to myself that I am not afraid, I am very fond of him ------Bana: Faye Wong