88 sentences of aesthetic ancient artistic conception

First, if you can't write a book, just send a little acacia.

Second, lonely boudoir, tender feelings and sorrow.

Third, there is a parallel knife in the air, and it is difficult to give up sadness.

Fourth, tell Ling Hua that he is lovesick and see who is thin.

Five, the mountains have no edges, and heaven and earth are close, but they dare to break with you.

Sixth, be there or be square, how heartless?

Seven, each has his own grievances, so the painting is far away.

Eight, ask acacia, look in the mirror in the future, rustling.

Nine, a piece of spring sorrow, gradually blowing, like a spring cloud.

In the cold, only the stars can accompany the lonely night.

Eleven, heartless moon, sentient beings return to dreams, return to the secluded boudoir.

In the spring and autumn, I miss you very much, and I am worried when I see embroidered screens alone.

Thirteen, dark acacia, nowhere to say, melancholy night fog.

Fourteen, a beautiful branch is carefully taken, and the heart is as heavy as a bundle.

Fifteen, I can enjoy the black magpie unintentionally, but I can use spiders to please the silk.

16. Once in Houmen, it is as deep as the sea. Since then, Xiao Lang has been a passer-by.

Seventeen, people and the sky are empty, why forget each other, why laugh and be surprised.

Eighteen, life is naturally infatuated, and this resentment has nothing to do with romantic!

He is infatuated with love, and there is no place in the world where he misses it.

On the 20th, when * * * cut the candle at the west window, the words were dim and rainy.

Twenty-one, poor wudinghe, still a dream girl!

22. I was going to say I'd come back before I respect you, but I didn't say anything about spring.

Remember that your heart is like the West River, which flows eastward day and night.

Twenty-four, spring is as old as ever, people are empty, and tears are red and sad.

Twenty-five, don't change your hair with flowers, even this bright flame of love will only have ashes? !

26, stop * * * flowers, even this bright flame of love, will there only be ashes? .

Twenty-seven, once the sea is difficult for water, it will always be amber.

The most important thing is that the sound is always leaking and the shadow is moving secretly.

Twenty-nine, Chuke wants to listen to Yao's resentment, Xiaoxiang midnight.

Thirty years old, the breeze and the bright moon are homesick, and my son has been a soldier for more than ten years.

It's easy to see all the flowers in Los Angeles at first.

Thirty-two, a real warrior, dare to face his own face.

Thirty-three, the cardamom ci worker, the brothel dream is good, it is difficult to show affection.

Thirty-four, Yan Ci and his party returned to Nanxiang, missing the guests and being heartbroken.

Thirty-five, my belt is getting wider and wider, and I don't regret it. I am thin for Iraq.

Thirty-six, the belt is getting wider and wider, and I don't regret it. People who die for Iraq are haggard.

Thirty-seven, the belt is getting wider and wider, which makes people haggard for Iraq.

38. Affection hurts parting since ancient times, and the autumn season is even more worthy of being left out.

Thirty-nine, affectionate since ancient times, it is even worse to be left out.

I'm not me. I was not in Suzhou when you turned and walked away.

Acacia has never been idle. It takes time and energy to curse you.

Forty-two, from now on no longer dream of grace, and praise China Byakki Smoker.

Forty-three, sentimental since ancient times, which is more comparable, snubbing the clear autumn festival.

Forty-four, emotions are always ruthless, and the next step is to drop water until dawn.

Forty-five, heptachord, who wants to have a heart-to-heart talk, has few bosom friends, who will listen to the strings?

Forty-six, this situation has nowhere to be eliminated, only frowning to the heart.

47. Lights and stars, sounds and songs are endless.

Forty-eight, I was unlucky. I bid farewell to my friends and asked if life was bleak everywhere.

Forty-nine, melancholy Yu Di urged goodbye, and it's not sad.

Fifty, it is early that there are few residual red branches, and the flying catkins are ruthless and even more annoying.

5 1. Who travels around the world without a box of masks these days?

Fifty-two times, I wandered around the pavilion at night, only passing the Qingming Festival, and gradually felt the spring dusk.

53. People on both sides of the Taiwan Strait collect red beans after a light rain and raise their hands under the tree.

Fifty-four, the heart has a tiger, sniffing roses. After the feast, I was in tears.

Fifty-five years old, I miss you in a distant place. Outside the blue sky, my eyes used to shine, but today they have become the source of tears.

Fifty-six, the weather is better than wings, and the branches are well managed. Nine days, this hate period!

Fifty-seven, how many beauties have been worn out and how many lovesickness pieces have been broken, leaving only blood, ink and tears.

Fifty-eight, rouge tears, to be drunk, when heavy, naturally people grow up and hate water.

Fifty-nine, humanity is deep, not as good as lovesickness. The sea is still limited, and acacia is boundless.

Sixty, you gave birth to me. I was old when I gave birth to you. I hate being born at the same time and being with you every day.

Sixty-one, acacia leaks more every night, worrying about the dry moon, missing you and missing me cold.

Sixty-two years old, how beautiful she is, opening the pearly casement and sitting with a frown. I only saw her tears wet her cheeks, and I don't know if she hates herself or herself.

Sixty-three, who are you, the pen-tip boy who misses you so much, turned into a song on the desolate road of the city.

Sixty-four, who scattered the smoke, who scattered the vertical and horizontal; Listen to the string and break three thousand infatuations.

Sixty-five, the long strip, countless fireworks, you look back with lanterns, pavilions are short, the world of mortals is rolling, and I sigh again.

Sixty-six, people can never see the lens, but I mean a cloud of smoke, a thousand years in the world, such as my moment.

Sixty-seven, Dongli handle wine after dusk, there is a dark fragrance full of sleeves. Don't say clear autumn is not a person, the west wind rolls the flag and beads curtain, and the person in the curtain is thinner than that Huang Ju.

Sixty-eight, Dongli handle wine after dusk, there is a dark fragrance full of sleeves. Mo Tao doesn't forget me, the curtain rolls west wind, and people are thinner than yellow flowers.

Sixty-nine, we hope to fly in the sky, two birds grow together on the ground with one wing, two branches of a tree. ; The earth endures, and the sky endures; One day both will end, and this endless sadness will last forever!

Seventy, a thousand maple leaves, the shadow of the river bridge. Remember that your heart is like the Xihe River, which flows eastward day and night.

Seventy-one, wash and dress, and lean on Wangjianglou alone. After all, Qian Fan is not here, the afterglow is full of water, and Bai Pingzhou is heartbroken.

Seventy-two, linglong dice Anhoudou, how much do you know about bone acacia? Three feet charming child died for you, and this song will never be played again.

Seventy-three, the time was long before I met her, but it was longer than our separation. The east wind started and a hundred flowers blossomed. Silkworms in spring will weave until they die, and candles will drain the wick every night.

Seventy-four, if I speak first, will the days be the same? At both ends of the running water, we stand on each other's shore.

Seventy-five, I want to know you, the mountains have no graves, the rivers are endless, there is thunder in winter, rain and snow in summer, and heaven and earth are one, but I dare to be with you.

Seventy-six, I've been waiting all my life, but I can't get your instant gaze. There used to be a tall building with singing and dancing sleeves.

Seventy-seven, worry about Qingyuan charm, is a kind of distant sadness, such as the lonely moon in Wei Yun, can only look at the distance from the horizon.

Seventy-eight, nine Wan Li sky, wind shadow, who and * * *? The Millennium Beidou, Yao Palace is cold and bitter, if it is not a fairy couple, it is a hundred years old.

Seventy-nine, let sadness disappear in the world; Give love a vast blue sky, give love an endless grassland. Let true love fill between you.

Eighty, don't write love stories, don't write poems, one party always feels, knows it upside down, and is horizontal. Who knows this?

Eighty-one, into my lovesickness door, only to know that I am lovesick, lovesickness looking back, lovesickness is infinite. If I had known this, I would have been a stranger.

Eighty-two, Bianshui River, Sishui River, flows to Guazhou ancient ferry, Wu Shan is a little sad. Think of dragons, hate dragons, hate to rest when returning, and the moon people lean on the building.

83. Perhaps it is the marriage in a previous life or the fate in the next life. Meeting in this life will only increase useless resentment. One person is afraid of loneliness, and two people are afraid of disappointment.

Eighty-four, who scattered the smoke, who scattered the vertical and horizontal. Listen to the string and break three thousand infatuations. Falling flowers, forgetting, once the wind rippled. If the flower is pitiful, it will fall on whose fingertips.

Eighty-five, each period is shortened, and life and death are shared. The website in spring will follow this blank soil. Today I laugh at Yi. Who will give it to me next year? The bleak Shouchun Building proves the fruit of nirvana.

Eighty-six, the moon, now full of the sea, at this time the end of the world * * *. People who love hate long nights and sleepless nights and miss their loved ones. Put out the candle to love this moonlit room, and I wander in the deep night dew in my clothes. You can't have beautiful moonlight, just want to meet you in your dreams.

Eighty-seven, lonely little building, poor like silver hooligans. Looking back at the screen, the light smoke, the flowing water, the mood is faint. Flying freely is as light as a dream. The endless silk rain is as thin as sorrow, and a small silver hook is hung on the curtain.

Eighty-eight or even seven seas will dry up. Even Wan Li will fall apart. In this world, all kinds of places where you will go come and go like the tide.