Looking for elegant and refreshing autumn lyrical prose

The whispers of loneliness in late autumn

This autumn, I am a bit lazy. I am too lazy to paint my eyebrows, too lazy to change my clothes, too lazy to read books, too lazy to look at CDs, and too lazy to talk, but my tears flow more frequently.

This autumn, I am a little short-sighted. I can't see the mountains, the water, the clouds, the moon clearly, I can only see you.

Are you a book? Pure and elegant, smiling proud of the past and present, lingering and lingering, holding me back. The poems in the book add fragrance to the red sleeves, and the wine is recited, and the harp and harp are harmonious.

Are you a song? Bright and bright, with a long aftertaste, soaking into me bit by bit, singing and dancing, petals on clothes, grass on the steps, beautiful scenery.

Are you the wind? Slowly, warmly and softly, it surrounds me softly. The wind dances in the dusk, the dark fragrance fills my sleeves, and the fragrance in my heart blooms enchantingly.

Are you the rain? Threads and threads moisten things silently, covering me densely and densely. The rain wets the swing, which is light and delicate green, blowing flowers and chewing pistils, counting the dates of return.

Are you a sword? Xiaoxiao unrestrained, heroic and unrestrained, it shocked me vigorously, the sword energy is like a rainbow, the books and flowers are scattered all over the pavilion, and the tenderness is lingering in my heart.

Are you wine? It's strong and strong, high-spirited, and dazzles me in a trance. The wine makes me sad, turning into lovesickness, all kinds of deep feelings, just for the madness of the king.

It’s late at night, the jade is still and the sun is cold, it’s hard to stare at the blue sky, and we are separated by sorrow and follow each other, and we have no way to send our lovesickness.

Afraid of hearing the sound of the forest beating through the forest, and crying through the old beauty of the shark gauze. Since ancient times, love has always been sad, and the waning moon in the morning breeze makes me sigh.

Standing by the window, there is nowhere to ask about the way back. One kind of lovesickness, two places of sadness.

Drunk alone, my clothes are wet with sorrow. The flowers have fallen, and I am afraid of waking up from my sweet dream.

Looking at the flowers falling after the rain at dusk, I sigh that my lovesickness is still in my bones. Alas, forget it, forget it, don’t mention the sad things.

I invite the bright moon to accompany me when I am drunk, and forget the eternal sorrows of the world... Autumn Whispers

The autumn wind is coming from far and near, and the high and low autumn moon is rising, deep and shallow. The autumn rain has fallen, and the feeling of autumn is approaching. The autumn that I love so much, is that thick green color your eyes? Is that light red your shy smile? Are those fluttering leaves your dancing and flying heart? Is that faint fragrance your secretly enchanting beauty?

The bamboo creates shadows against the window, and the orchids send out fragrance due to the wind. The wind will fall for a while but will drift away, but the smoke will be high but not silent. I raised my misty eyes, picked up a sprig of orchid, poured a cup of fragrant tea, and wandered alone in the arms of autumn. I was happy and naughty like a naughty child, radiating romance and freedom, reciting poems in the wind and singing in the rain. , lighting up the lamp while drunk, looking at swords in dreams, willfully and willfully turn this autumn into a mellow drunkenness for a thousand days.

The green mountains are at the door, the white clouds are at the door, the bright moon is at the window, and the cool breeze is blowing on the seat. Leaning against the window, leaning against the railing, holding a scroll, accompanied by good friends, cooking tea and chatting, it was a happy night. Chatting about the past and present, quietly enjoying the mountains and rivers, drinking tea and wine to suit the tranquility. In the happy years, I talk about autumn nights, and my joy is boundless, but I only regret that the days are short. Lying high in a restaurant, the red sun does not wake me from my dream of poetry; the pavilion is full of books and flowers, and the white clouds always carry the fragrance of ink marks.

The red polygonum and white apple make up the autumn look, and the wild flowers and sparse willows provide some autumn colors. The colorful autumn scenery made me stop, the happy and sweet autumn mood made me intoxicated, the charming autumn feelings made me think, and the romantic and warm autumn songs made me linger. I love singing songs while drinking wine and reciting poems in the wind. I am confused in this thick autumn, and I am in a trance in this deep autumn, turning into a person who loves autumn. And that autumn, because of my infatuated love, not only gave birth to great pride, but also gave all kinds of care and love to me who love autumn.

The warm autumn sun is the most genial and warm. Bathed in this autumn sun, I am drunk with autumn, and autumn smiles at me...

Late autumn whispers about loneliness.

This autumn, I am a bit lazy. I am too lazy to paint my eyebrows, too lazy to change my clothes, too lazy to read books, too lazy to look at CDs, and too lazy to talk, but my tears flow more frequently.

This autumn, I am a little short-sighted.

I can’t see the mountains, the water, the clouds, the moon clearly, I can only see you.

Are you a book? Pure and elegant, smiling proud of the past and present, lingering and lingering around me, the poems in the book add fragrance, the red sleeves add fragrance, the wine is recited, and the harp and harp are harmonious.

Are you a song? Bright and bright, with a long aftertaste, soaking into me bit by bit, singing and dancing, petals on clothes, grass on the steps, beautiful scenery.

Are you the wind? Slowly, warmly and softly, it surrounds me softly. The wind dances in the dusk, the dark fragrance fills my sleeves, and the fragrance in my heart blooms enchantingly.

Are you the rain? Threads and threads moisten things silently, covering me densely and densely. The rain wets the swing, which is light and delicate green, blowing flowers and chewing pistils, counting the dates of return.

Are you a sword? Xiaoxiao unrestrained, heroic and unrestrained, it shocked me vigorously, the sword energy was like a rainbow, the books and flowers were scattered all over the pavilion, and the tenderness lingered in my heart.

Are you wine? It's strong and strong, high-spirited, and dazzles me in a trance. The wine makes me sad, turning into lovesickness, all kinds of deep feelings, just for the madness of the king.

It’s late at night, the jade is still in the cold, and it’s hard to stare at the blue sky. We are separated by sorrow and follow each other, and we have no way to send our lovesickness.

Afraid of hearing the sound of the forest beating through the forest, and crying through the old beauty of the shark gauze. Since ancient times, love has always been sad, and the waning moon in the morning breeze makes me sigh.

Standing by the window, there is nowhere to ask about the way back. One lovesickness, two sadnesses.

Drunk alone, my clothes are wet with sorrow. The flowers have fallen, and I am afraid of waking up from my sweet dream.

Looking at the flowers falling after the rain at dusk, I sigh that my lovesickness is still in my bones. Alas, forget it, forget it, don’t mention the sad things.

Invite the bright moon to accompany me when I get drunk, and forget about the eternal sorrows of the world...

The smoke of tea rises lightly, and I talk about Jiangnan while drunk

(1)

It is always a beautiful day to drink a cup of good tea with friends.

Two women with their skirts still fluttering in the cold winter, leaning against the window, rolling up the curtains, playing the kite, accompanied by the wind and inviting clouds, sat leisurely opposite each other. In front of a small table covered with blue and white plaid cloth, I listened to my heart with the piano and savored the music with the tea.

An exquisite and clear quartz teapot is singing steamingly on the exquisite and unique alcohol stove, and the smiling roses are elegantly flying up and down in a pot of pure and clear spring. , the dense breath spreads out from the bottom of the pot to all sides, and the faint fragrance lingers around us.

Tilting his head slightly, he looked at the flowers that were slowly stretching their bodies and swimming leisurely in the teapot with a smile, and looked at their once shriveled and thin bodies in the refreshing water of the clear water. My lower body gradually became plump and moist, and the worries that I had been curled up in for a long time seemed to suddenly relax.

The warm sunshine in the afternoon shines warmly on the world, more like a warm hand, gently brushing my smooth face and my smiling eyes. My mood couldn't help but become soft and light.

There is a lot of good weather in winter, but not much free time. The best tea is often available, but the time to enjoy the intoxicating aroma of tea quietly and leisurely is too rare. And the happy moments where you can bask in the warm sunshine and let your mood relax are even rarer.

Sitting lazily on the soft chair next to the window, bathed in the warm sunshine, my eyes were a little hazy and my heart was a little drunk.

It seems that I am a woman wading across the river to pick lotuses, walking on the deserted streets, holding a handful of clear springs, hairpin a quiet flower, looking at the fields of lotus leaves, the flowing autumn water, watching the time and cutting out sections at random. The years have accumulated with the cold and bright thoughts of Jiangnan. In the spring days of the past, those beauties who were once as beautiful as flowers and jade, holding delicate walking sticks, slowly combed through the thousands of strands of black hair that flowed with the years.

In a trance-like atmosphere, I walked farther and farther away, smiling, whispering, singing, and dancing in a place that could not be touched by the world, in the gentle wind of tea smoke and falling flowers. , warm a pot of wine under the moonlight, and brew tea with two liang of breeze...

Sitting quietly in the tunnel of time, I don’t want to talk or get up, I just want to be surrounded by this soft and fragrant time. Hugging her for a long time, I just want all the hustle and bustle in this earthly world to go away with the wind in the enlightenment of Zen tea.

The tea soup on the table gradually faded. The vague thoughts are getting thicker and thicker by the curling tea mist, so thick that it seems that it can travel through thousands of mountains and rivers.

Wiping the old dust from the corner of his eyes, he stared at his friend who seemed to be immersed in a certain artistic conception: "Perhaps the days when you have a cup of clear tea with you are the most pleasant times in your life, right?"

Friend, holding a cup and laughing: "I am not drunk with tea, but my heart is drunk..."

(2)

Real water has no fragrance, this is the plain truth .

But the days that lose their fragrance are a bit dull. Therefore, a cup of fragrant, light, fresh and elegant tea is the best decoration for ordinary days.

Mr. Lu Xun, who was well versed in the meaning of tea, once said: "Having good tea and being able to drink good tea is a kind of 'blessing'."

The word "Qing" vividly outlines the rich and simple Chinese style.

For most Chinese people, the strong passion of coffee and mellow wine is far less comfortable than a cup of clear, fragrant tea.

Taste in the world is pure joy. Life doesn’t have to be luxurious, just peaceful and peaceful. You don’t have to be deliberate in your pursuit, just be calm and calm.

What is important in drinking tea is to be still in the midst of the noise and to sit in meditation. With a cup of clear tea in hand, drink calmly and leisurely, smile and watch the flowers bloom and fall, exchange tranquility with tea, ask the mind with tranquility, realize tranquility with the heart, enlighten the Zen with tranquility, enlighten the heart with Zen, then the human heart will be relaxed, away from the disturbance, and heaven and man will be harmonious. one.

I love the artistic conception of "cooking tea and clearing the snow in a cold window, a bowl of reading light". I love holding a yellowed book of poetry tightly and sipping a cup of emerald green tea when the snow is flying all over the sky. , accompanied by green lanterns, reading at night by the window, chanting the style of the Tang Dynasty and the rhyme of the Song Dynasty, and sighing at the style of the Qin Dynasty and the bones of the Han Dynasty.

The fragrance of tea lingers in the place, the fragrance of books fills the sleeves, the shadows of lamps become poems, the world is far away, and all favors and disgrace are forgotten.

The separation and unavailability of love lingering between the brows, the sadness and emptiness in the heart are all gently wiped away by a wisp of tea smoke; all the worries and anxieties of the past are also wiped away by a cup of tea. Under the guidance of Wu, it slowly settled.

Only a cup of clear tea in your hand is as elegant as clouds and as elegant as wind. With a sip, you can overcome the endless prosperity of the world...

(3)

Tea maker is the famous tree in the south. In one cup, the essence of the sun and moon is condensed, absorbing the aura of heaven and earth.

A tea drinker is a humble gentleman in the floating world; a tea drinker is a handsome young man in the mortal world. The way of tea depends on the nature of the person who tastes it. The taste lies in the person as he wanders in and out of the mind.

I always feel that drinking tea is an elegant thing. Drinking alone is a peaceful enjoyment, and drinking with two people is a joy of knowing each other.

After my friends traveled far away, I often held a plain paper umbrella alone on misty and rainy days, walking along the long willow bank and dike, looking for an elegant and tidy teahouse, leaning against it. With the carved window lattice, you can spend a peaceful afternoon quietly.

The teahouse I love does not need to be magnificent, but it needs to be quiet and unique. The tea house I love may not have tile roofs and paper windows, but it must have a simple charm.

The teahouse I often go to for tea has my favorite blue and white porcelain cups that are azure after rain, elegant vases that exude the faint fragrance of gardenias, and clear blue that soothes the heart and nourishes the eyes.

Today, it was misty and rainy again, and I was sitting alone in a familiar position in the tea house, holding a thin cup and looking at the gray horizon in the distance.

A soulful and melancholy song "Blue and White Porcelain" was sung in my ears repeatedly like tea smoke: "The sky is blue waiting for the mist and rain, and I am waiting for you. The smoke from the kitchen is rising. , Thousands of miles across the river, the moonlight is lifted up, and the ending is blurred, just like the blue and white porcelain handed down from generation to generation, you are hidden from the depth of ink in the splash-ink landscape painting..."

Inexplicably, a kind of sadness surged over me, blurring my sad eyes.

Friends who once sat with each other to discuss tea, at this moment, in your brightly lit world, which face are you smiling brightly at? At this moment, which delicate and enchanting petals are blooming gently between your fragrant lips and teeth?

With the mist of tea smoke, I pour a cup full of quiet thoughts, and open a thread-bound volume of the past. The soft strings are caressing, the fragrance of tea is flowing, and I pick up the book Jiangnan beside the mouth of the flute.

Old friends laugh foolishly, and the courtyard is full of roses, red apricots and old people. Let’s make tea for now, don’t tell me that the end of the world is my home.

On the chest, the scent of tea lingers, making people want to get drunk. In the eyes, the past is vivid, and the past is like a dream.

Dear friend, today, I am watching the rain, listening to songs, and cooking tea. I miss you. Do you know?

Dear friends, even if the Jiangnan in the dream disappears, will the Jiangnan outside the dream remain the same?

The friend was speechless, but a drop of tea tears fell heavily...