Composition "Misty Rain Sending Acacia"

A misty rain scattered in the south of the Yangtze River, like a faint gouache, wiped all the plants and alleys under the time. The wind blows, but it is sticky, but it makes the years stay here for a long time. Things change silently, but it's hard to change my thoughts and concerns about you.

Fine rain, strung together a line, woven into a natural rain curtain. Looking through the curtains, your hazy appearance makes me at your fingertips, but it makes my eyes unreal. That distance, just like I miss your pain.

A misty rain, revealing three points of books, three points of powder, three points of simplicity, one point of sadness.

Soft and sad, beautiful and infatuated, flying flowers are as light as dreams, and the wind is low, just like a unique ink painting, so confused, so clearly displayed in front of me, portrayed in my eyes and moved in my heart.

I still remember you wearing blue clothes, I still remember the girl who floated by with a purple umbrella in Qingshi alley, I still remember the faint sadness and gentle sigh, and I still remember the dark hair like a cloud, full of bitterness.

Free flying flowers are as light as a dream, endless rain is as fine as sorrow, like smoke and fog, like illusion and dream, with a touch of sadness and a touch of sadness, Ying Ying gently weaves three tender feelings between her fingers, lingering, weaving into a curtain of dreams at the bottom of her heart.

Flowers bloom like poems, leaves are green like words, and I write down 3,000 loves for you on spring stationery. I wrote you in my dream with the most affectionate pen and ink; Willow is a flute, misty rain is a song, I miss you in the long flowing water, and blow you into my dream with my purest heart sound; Dream butterflies are flying, and the beautiful words are thrilling. In the world of mortals, Yi Yi, you awakened the love of my third life and branded me with your most infatuated eyes.

In a misty rain, I turned intoxicating poems into melodious melodies, and you put refreshing flowers on the strings of sadness and lingering, shaking your leisurely feelings in my light songs.

Apricot rains wet my clothes, and the breeze blows my cold face. I stretch out my soft hand and caress my heartstrings. My clothes are fluttering, tender as water, and I miss you like poetry in the misty rain ... I am very worried and keep asking: Do you know? Do you know ...

That drizzle is clearly the tears I miss you; The purples flying in the rain, obviously I accidentally knocked over your rouge. I said you are the most elegant, charming and elegant woman I have ever seen. I said you are the most beautiful scenery in the misty rain. However, I can't find you. Maybe you are a drop of rain in my palm. Everything is accidental. I can't control your future. You are not my waiting in this life. This must be a trick of God. You and I are just passers-by under the same umbrella. Perhaps, you are the rain falling on the ground, and I am the cloud floating in the air. Rain is a cloud, and clouds are rain, but rain and clouds can't be together. It is doomed that you and I can't be together in this life!

The rain is blooming, and the misty water vapor seems to be entangled in my heart and constantly chaotic. Is the rain falling for love? Tears fell from my heart, when it rained cold and cold, and my clothes were wet!

Some people say that rain is a tear in heaven. Is the land a love in heaven? If love can last forever, why should the rain grieve for the sky? Rain is tearing the love in the sky, hanging the love on the ground, floating around like falling flowers, so sad and beautiful.

Thoughts drift with the wind and rain, fall in the palm of your hand and melt in your heart. My heart is tired. Is it sadness with nowhere to hide? Carrying a heavy load, but still helpless, thinking about your own heart, there is nowhere to escape. ...

Trees in the rain are straighter; The flowers in the rain are more and more enchanting; The grass in the rain is full of outstanding green. Rain has brought lingering love to the earth. Seeing the rain, my heart floats like rain, and I cry like rain. How much tenderness, how much yearning, suddenly turned into misty rain!

How much care, how much melancholy, turned into rain, full of tears!

The origin is a circle, and the distance from the starting point to the end point is actually in my heart. Look at the scenery all the way, and the most beautiful scenery is in your heart. There is expectation and expectation, which is the best day. There can only be one dream in this life, and there can be one in this life, so that the flowers will accompany you all your life.

Who is misty rain coming for? Love is gone, feelings are scattered, my heart is hurt, and it's sad to watch the rain! Everything in the world has nothing to do with this. It is not the rain that is affectionate, nor the rain that is sad, but the people who watch and listen to the rain!

A misty rain, picturesque; A misty rain, a tender feeling; A misty rain, acacia everywhere. ...

2. The rain outside the window hits the ground again and again like a bell and drum, and also hits the heart, and the lonely sadness condenses on the face. I wanted to leave easily, but my sensitive heart was touched by the torrential rain and released Wan Li.

A mouthful of spicy wine enters the abdomen, and the thick bitterness comes from the depths of the throat. At this time, I feel nothing. Looking at the beautiful woman who is still playing the piano is still so beautiful. Looking at her reflection in the wine, the young face is printed with vicissitudes of life, and the tide rises and falls with a wry smile, winning in the southeast. Haha, she smiled at her half-life glitz. Drink that glass of wine again and break it. Looking at the vague shadow in front of us, thinking about the good memories at the beginning, now we have to part. A wine grinder, holding her hand tightly, obviously felt the tears falling, and the beauty clung to her body, but the cooling was born of her heart. The cicada outside the account is continuous and seems to be crying.

Finally leaving, the boatman looked at the reluctant lover, unable to bear it but helpless. He can only urge Liu Yong to board the ship again and again. Hands clasped tightly, but only brushed away with sleeves, and finally got on the boat. The beauty ran along the Shili Pavilion, and finally came to an end, with tears streaming down her face and sobbing, singing the song "Looking at the Tide of the Sea". Liu Yong was sad in his heart, thinking that he would not regret it when his clothes became wider and wider, and he was haggard for Iraq. However, now there are thousands of customs between the two places, let alone who! I can't hear the songs gradually, and now I feel bored thinking about the tides and the beautiful scenery of Qiantang written by heroic spirit. I threw away my delicate cup, raised my hip flask and gulped it down. The wind blew up my clothes and I passed out on the deck. I looked at the willows floating from the shore and the petals blowing from the depths of the jungle. I raised my hand and English was spinning at my fingertips. Looking at the sky, the waning moon blushes, just like the eyes of a crying beauty, red and sad. The sky is overcast and foggy ahead. Close your eyes, is it really difficult and important to be famous? Young and frivolous, I just want to lie drunk on the earth and sing softly. However, my father held his hand like tonight, hoping that he would be loyal to the court. I still remember Hualin. Yu Ying plays the piano and sings in the Woods, and she plays a Yu Di herself. Nowadays, things are different, cutting constantly, and the reason is still chaotic, which is to leave sorrow. Don't have a taste in my heart. The residual flowers and red leaves, as if arousing their own poetic heart, barely stood up and wrote the famous "Yulin Ridge" in the gloom. Get drunk on the boat.

The boatman shook his head and the world was full of infatuation. A solitary sail drifted away with the running water, and I didn't know where to go. The ends of the earth make me everywhere.

3. Hiding under Dai Wangshu's umbrella, listening to the rain in the south of the Yangtze River, knocking on the raindrops in my heart, there is no sound, only the fragrance of apricot blossoms has been lingering in the lonely March.

Wu wear wet heart, along the footsteps of Dai Wangshu, walked to the depths of the south of the Yangtze River. Rain, still raining, neither slow nor tight, neither slow nor urgent. ...

The long rainy lane, as always lonely, as always empty and lonely, broke my memory. Like lilac, the figure of resentment still does not appear in my confused field of vision.

Rain Lane is becoming more and more melancholy in the smoke waves in the south of the Yangtze River. ...

Jiangnan is rainy and affectionate, and the misty rain in Jiangnan belongs to those passionate poets, and the misty rain in Jiangnan is saturated with the poet's resentment and hatred.

For thousands of years, many celebrities' grudges and resentments, and many children's infatuation have intertwined into an eternal love affair, flowing in the mountains and rivers of Jiangnan and lingering in the rain and fog of Jiangnan. ...

Without the regret of oil-paper umbrella, is the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River still so far-reaching? Still so melancholy and confused?

Walking through the misty rain and fog, over the gorgeous ruins, I ran all the way, across the mountains and rivers in the south of the Yangtze River, looking for it all the way. Every word and sentence scattered in the lakes and mountains, chapters and sections can always attract me to linger.

Through the clouds of history, I saw a figure who wrote "Flowers in the Garden of Yushu", lost in the sadness of returning to my hometown forever. The lingering dream of Jiangnan does not belong to the overlord, but to the poet!

Unfortunately, there is no room for a gifted scholar or a few volumes of poetry in that wonderful place. Since then, there have been a few more tears of the deceased in the sky in Jiangnan. ...

Youth is fleeting, rivers and mountains are different.

After thousands of years of polishing and washing, the glitz of Song, Qi, Liang and Chen, and the extravagance of gold powder in the Six Dynasties, all returned to the loneliness of the Yellow Lantern, and turned into a few old things and several historical sites in the fragrant wind in the south of the Yangtze River.

Following a poet's eyes, I saw that in the shadow of paddles and lights, I didn't know what national subjugation was, and it wasn't just those businesswomen who were singing opera across the river!

Wandering in Dai Wangshu's confusion, sinking into Du Fu's sadness and Jiangnan's tenderness, drifting away, at arm's length …

After prosperity comes loneliness, and after noise comes silence. The grand luxury of the Millennium is always blown away by the wind and rain, leaving a lot of bitterness, wandering in the misty and rainy years, and the rain in the south of the Yangtze River has also soaked this pile. This bit by bit. ...

The rain in the south of the Yangtze River always condenses too much sadness and resentment, always carries too much sadness and parting, and always incorporates too much sadness and anger. As a result, several sentimental poets were attracted and wrote a few sad and moving poems in the misty rain.

The back of the pen, the sadness of spring flowers and autumn moon, the entanglement of talented people and beautiful women have turned into the loneliness of rain and banana in a confused rainy night and the emptiness in the morning.

Standing in the depths of the south of the Yangtze River, watching the "enthusiasm" coming and going, in lingering Jiang Nanyu, in addition to busy souls and chasing figures, there are several pure poetic hearts on today's desk. How many "leisurely" poets are there?