A prose with the theme of Qian Xia’s sentiments

Feelings of light summer

Light summer is like smoke, and the years are fleeting.

One part bright and one part fragrant, exaggerating the prosperity and diffusing the fragrance.

The years go by, calmly and peacefully. Looking back casually, summer flowers are already gorgeous in the blink of an eye.

Spring goes away quietly and silently, but a piece of fragrance is still lingering, leaving behind a bit of touch and a bit of hope.

Take a refreshing bath and let the sun shine all over you. Summer is overflowing with warmth. The hot season is full of deep love, blooming in the green lotus lamp.

Holding the lamp to the wind, a page of poems, traces of wind and rain, hurriedly passed through. A deep feeling is brewed on a thin note.

A collection of poems and chapters, infused with concern, sneaks into the jade case, and strands of feelings settle down.

Who is falling in the silence, the thin moon is dimly smudged, whose sadness lingers over the passing years, whose poetic and artistic meaning turns into colorful butterflies whirling in the white clouds in dreams.

Butterfly flying, butterfly dancing, butterfly falling in love, butterfly drunkenness, graceful mood, a little bit of love. That obsession, the fluttering wings, love in the stamens, a delicate fragrance, with the shining pearls, will last forever in time. Infatuation, dancing in the soft moon, comes vividly, dreaming and reflecting in your heart. Stop in time.

Time has left footprints, pain, gradually forgotten, but the past is still clear. Looking back suddenly, it is difficult to find the colorful colors of the shadows of the years. Have you ever seen my hurried figure?

Time flies and never returns, wandering alone under the moon, the evening wind lifts my clothes, and the drizzle spreads, drenching a corner of my heart.

The night slowly opened, the stage was silent, and one person performed the sweet, sour and spicy performance. The dark night carries helplessness, too many reveries, following the wind, following the rain...

I hope to stay outside the sky, with a persistent mind and swaying thoughts. Autumn has not yet arrived, depression and desolation have already appeared, the wind sweeps away the withered soul, leaving a place of loneliness and residual dreams.

In the misty rain over the Yangtze River and Huaihe River, it is a quiet night. Leaning against the window, the vast universe is hazy.

Floating clouds pass by, time flies by, and the soul wanders in the wilderness, unable to calm down the hatred of the world.

In the dark eyes, the light in the heart is bright, and the eyebrows are furrowed in vain, looking forward to life, and we are close to each other, all at the end of the world.

The empty courtyard is full of charm, and the dream is left behind. Once you get drunk, who is the least bit frivolous?

If you are obsessed with life, who will hold the red thread? My desolation, your sorrow.

The promise is light in the wind and the clouds are light, and the back is blurred. The wind and frost on the journey, day and night, the time is spent.

An unforgettable moment, a dream, a drunken dream. A touch of love, a lot of sorrow.

The dream of the mortal world, the face is thin, the breeze is a stroke, where is the bright moon? Quietly watch the red sunset, its curves of wax and wane, kneaded into thousands of heart knots, how much lovesickness arouses in the lingering, singing of thousands of years of wind and frost, deep in the lotus root, holding each other together.

The years have decorated the prosperity of a lifetime, and that touch of bright red has broken the youth, and whose dreams are drifting in the dust in the mist and rain.

Listen to the wind whispering, watch the rain cry, and the water flows slowly. Who can understand the sorrow and pain behind the shallow text. The misty rain towers and the vast sea. A cup of turbid wine to get drunk on the romance of the past life, Qinhuai ballads, warm jade smoke, ecstasy dreams, palace palaces and fine wine, drunken mandarin ducks, and colorful sleeves.

Drunk eyes are blurred, tears stain the beauty, the love is stranded, the guest is in the mist, the lover knows the guest, the word "take care", the world is far away, and the love will be left in the years like water.

Live up to your time and live up to yourself

Live up to your time and live up to yourself

The so-called growth means that you stand in the future and look back at your past self , you will feel extremely childish - the emotions you once felt were just plaintive moans of sorrow for spring and autumn, the persistence and faith you once held were not solid, and the person you once had a crush on was not what you imagined.

Because growth will allow you to meet a better future.

The road to the future is a one-way street and cannot be missed easily. As I write and write every day, the future I imagine is running in the morning, spring flowers, and you with me. Then we went through wind and rain, through the noisy and hot midsummer, and when the end of the world came into sight, we finally met the future we wanted, with no regrets.

I have missed countless dialogues, saved many kinds of relief, and imagined a different future. For me, "youth" and "future" are the two most beautiful words. How lucky I am at this time to be able to bloom the light and beauty of youth. I look forward to meeting you in the future, because we are still young and want to Want and be able to have more. The road to the future will not always be smooth sailing, but no matter how muddy today is, tomorrow will still come as promised. One day, the clouds all over the mountains and plains will stand up for you.

I hope that, together with you, we can meet the future - the bluest sea, the most beautiful sunshine, and the best you.

I am willing to accompany you and not let time be let down - not let down the simplest fleeting years, the freest time, the sunniest self.

Come on, time

Summer plants its shadow in the night

And I begin to understand the meaning of peace

No more Stick to dreams but pursue hard work

From putting on winter clothes to the fragrance of kapok starting to spread

I walked around on the road and felt the loneliness and vitality

The deep and shallow footprints

I began to learn not to be obsessed with dreams

The light dazzled in the dark night

It reminded me of the beauty and beauty I once hid. Secret

I began to fall in love with such a peaceful and quiet soul

That prophecy about youth is not a beautiful one

It also gave me hope for the future

Come on, the unknown future and the past that I love and hate

Let me hug you

And your unique charm

Loss is a moment, but it is also eternity

The distant plum fragrance lingers in the dreamy time in the wind of the season. My mood is disturbed by the thoughts that disappear and appear. I think time is already on the way. You have become older, but I clearly see your figure in the traces of time, in the memories frozen by time. When I look back, I see a beautiful scenery under the hazy moonlight. I feel helpless as to who made farewell become a deep sigh. Perhaps it is the vicissitudes of the passing years and the desolation that time is not reserved for young people.

If you don’t think about it, you will never forget it. Even if I don’t think about you, I can’t forget you. Recalling the scene back then, now I am full of emotions, leaving only a lonely heart accompanied by concern and the reason to miss you, and every memory is enough to make me obsessed, every whisper is in the shadow of time, It made me miss you but I was at a loss. After all, I couldn't help but miss you, and it became an unforgettable sentiment.

I still remember that time when I was tied to the boat. The place where we said goodbye and the scene where we said goodbye are all still fresh in my mind. This aroused the idea of ????pursuing me, just to find him in the crowd, but now my face is haggard, even if we meet, I may not recognize me, I am afraid I will be speechless.

Melancholy, Xiaoying and the waning moon, farewell, separated from the sound and dust. After we said goodbye that year, my heart began to become heavy, and the lingering sounds became a continuation of longing. Then I wandered between loss and possession, always staying awake in every frightened night. From then on, except for insignificant words, it was The dense emotions in my heart, but the sound and dust are separated, the green love is stagnant in the passing years of the moon.

It’s hard to say goodbye when we meet, the east wind is powerless and the flowers are withered. The most anticipated thing at that time was to meet by chance, so such a meeting was very rare, and the subsequent parting was also inseparable. Now that late spring is approaching, the east wind will blow away, and the flowers will wither, it is even more sad. . The sad thoughts are constantly cut and confused, it is the melancholy of separation, and the long and long sadness is indescribable.

Whose silence takes away whose beauty? Who refuses to take a curtain call and who will always be prosperous? I think I shouldn't have been silent at that time. It was my silence that made me hear nothing from you and made everything happen now. I blame me for being too weak at the time. I had no choice but to let the flowers fall and fail to stir up my thoughts. Looking back, I can only sigh with regret. , because I can’t find Zeng Jin’s self, Zeng Jin’s dream.

The profound changes are not distant, and the deep love will not change even if it lasts ten thousand years.

All obsessions are the fault of the original obsession. Such regret means that I will never be able to find the me I once was. I can only be sentimental, letting my anxious heart burn hot in the summer season. If possible, I really want to go back to that time, muster up the courage to release my inner emotions, and let time no longer cry in the dark night. Even after ten thousand years, deep love will not change, just because it is you in the dim light.

We cannot change the past, but we can change the future. Time flies away from us, and we may not cherish it well, and there is nothing worth mentioning in the fading memories. The past is gone, and our stories are just a drop in the ocean, but they are our only ones after all. However, we cannot change the past that we passed by, but we can find it again in the future.

Losing may also be a kind of possession. I know that only by truly understanding your loss can you try to have it again. Memories are eternal, and parting creates vicissitudes of life. I hope that when I lose it, I can no longer hesitate, let memories become the power to walk, bid farewell to vicissitudes of life, and realize one of my dreams.

Loss is a moment, but it is also eternity. When love has become a thing of the past, forgetting my memories has replaced everything.

The fate is not over yet - we will never be separated

Every sentence,

Every word,

Every smile,

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They are all filled with true feelings.

Time will not go back,

Time will not stay,

Time will not wait for anyone,

Similarly, we will all grow old. .

Please don’t forget that class,

Please don’t forget that classmate,

Please don’t forget that teacher,

We Every little bit flows in between.

The class that is always praised as the noisiest class in the whole year,

The class that is always praised as the messiest class in the whole class,

That class is always praised as the noisiest class in the whole class. It is praised as the most strict class in the whole year.

It contains our laughter and sweat for the past three years.

Each spring, summer, autumn and winter,

One by one, they make funny jokes,

Each one says how tired they are,

How tired they are We bear it together.

Every classmate left a shadow,

Every classmate left a footprint,

Every classmate left a smile,

I left everything behind and will laugh when I recall it.

How many stupid things have you done,

How many games have you played.

I have done so many things,

Who can count clearly?

I can’t live without my teachers,

I can’t live without my classmates,

I can’t live without everyone,

I’m reluctant to let go, but in the end To leave.

Sixty-two, I will always be there,

My classmates, I will always be there,

Teacher, I will always be there.

I will always be with you!

The fate is not over yet - we will never be apart

Slow down the time!

Tribute to youth

The time is clear and the shadows of flowers are slightly cool. The flowers blooming in this life are the cool moments when you pass by me. ——Introduction

The youthful and ignorant years have passed, and I have seen all the flowers blooming and falling, and the clouds are rolling and relaxing. I want to write down this past time, but I don’t know where to start. The winding growth rings of the declining years, the innocent years swaying with the shadows, the broken and messy memories, are engraved with the lingering of prosperity.

The passing of time brought me the melancholy of walking up to the west building alone in silence. Cut out a period of time, half bright and half cool. The entangled thoughts linger around me and I can't get rid of them. I have to plant them in the world of words and write about spring flowers, summer wind, autumn leaves, winter snow, and the youth of the four seasons.

In that season of dreams and blooming flowers, we, lonely and courageous, overcame thorns and thorns, hung sails on the clouds and sailed across the sea; or stalked slowly when flowers bloomed on the street. In that season with the breeze and the fragrance of flowers, we met when we suddenly looked back, accompanying each other in the dim light.

In that season of tears and laughter, we hugged each other at the corner and then turned away. From the flowers blooming then to the flowers fading now, they have gone through so many winds and frosts, and time passes, leaving only a sad youth.

The happiness or sadness of the past has turned into endless memories, playing in the movies of youth. Memoirs of youth contain every detail of our journey together, full of sour, sweet, bitter, spicy and mixed flavors. Looking up at the white clouds wandering in the vast sky, just like those happy times we experienced together, there is nowhere to rest.

I never think about those people who are drifting away. Their distant figures gradually disappear, and there will always be people who feel lonely. In the annals of youth, the most beautiful and nostalgic moments are solidified. Occasionally he glanced at her, but immediately withdrew his silent gaze. If we meet, there may only be a faint greeting: Oh, it's you.

The flowers have already bloomed on the street, but our youth is no longer there. We, who were dependent on each other at that time, failed to withstand the test of time, and the final feast ended after all. Break off a branch of green gardenia, pick up a ray of memories, and shoot it on the target of time with the arrows of those times we spent together. Many, many, one by one, are firmly inserted there, waiting silently, waiting for him or her to take off the arrow and lose it.

The most beautiful pictures have long been framed and included in the campus album of youth, and only the scattered memories have been discarded in the annihilation of time. Different youth, different memories, dipped in ink, write down the past time. In old age, it may be more meaningful than the scroll. I spread out the long scroll in my hand, looked at the faded and yellowed pages, and smelled the fragrance of ink from the past, which brought back the long-abandoned memories of my youth.

The warm time in the past has transformed into a cold youth. Brew a pot of fragrant tea, listen to the whispers of time, feel the joy and sorrow in the depths of time, and let loneliness erode. Time goes by, flowers bloom, and with light steps, we walk through the mottled memories of youth, once again appreciating the scenery we have seen together, and tasting the bitterness left behind by youth. If I can't forget it, I would like to engrave my youth in the palm of my hand and keep it warm for the rest of my life.

The fragrance of flowers fills the dream

The fragrance of flowers floats in the dream

Last night I dreamed of flowers, and the stars were dotted, and the fragrance filled the dream

The dream is filled with thousands of flowers Searching, wandering in the past

What kind of fragrance floats in quietly

Overflowing the heart

The person with a smile as bright as a flower My son

What makes you forget so much

I only remember

Under the clear blue umbrella

The quiet path

Hazy rain smoke

Wurling and moving

Lingering on the green branches