Antique talks about the fleeting time, blowing songs and dust, and thinking about _ beautiful sentences.

First, the pavilions are short and the world of mortals is rolling. I sigh Xiao again.

Second, burn out in this life and bury my heart in the afterlife. I just want to be a heartless person, quiet and stable.

Third, you are as beautiful as flowers and jade, but you can't compete with the fleeting time. That song about us, I will sing it to you. If you live through the hardships of my life, I would like to make you rich all your life. If you never leave, I will live and die together. I will only tell you about love words all my life. About Tianya, I will only write with you all my life.

Fourth, when Long song was crying, for those promises that could not be fulfilled, for the deepest love in life, she finally dispersed into clouds.

Five, who sits alone and enjoys this young age. We were young that year, and our dreams were shallow that year.

Sixth, when everything is sinking, who will remember to fight for the front line? How long will the full moon last like a dream?

Seven, sadness, whose piano music softened into a Qian Qian knot? The moon falls and the crow falls. Whose wind and frost have been sung for thousands of years? When a smile provokes infatuation, it is doomed to go through a thousand years in the world of mortals. Tonight, I got drunk in my past life for no reason. Deep in the lotus root, Liuan, misty rain terrace is still a Wang Yang.

Eight, not ended, endless thoughts, empty red dust songs, if the heart is boundless, the heart has no shore, I would like to dust, follow you all my life, but can you?

Nine, in the bleak scene, you have the most beautiful shadow, elegance refers to quicksand, and you are old for a while.

Ten, the red rope is tied to the bell, and future generations will linger; Send immortals to dinner and dance drunk for thousands of years.

1 1. Picking a phoenix flower for her under the moon will make her laugh. This is an illusion.

Twelve, the clouds have passed, the misty rain is far away, and there is dust dancing in the air. One sleeve is elegant and thin, and the sky is slightly shallow. I am intoxicated with a lot of mysterious pen and ink, fragrant words in poems, and the shallow strokes of the Phantom of the Opera. When I arrived at Lu 'an levee, I wrote a poem word for word, which was self-generated, somewhat elegant and somewhat bitter. A book of ink marks, half a volume of clear words, lotus full of grace, butterfly dance. Crystal heart, delicate as silk, flowers bloom all over the sky, misty rain sounds years.

Thirteen, looking at the sun and the moon that day, there was silence; Green mountains and green waters, stretching from generation to generation; Just like in my heart, you never left, never changed.

14. Fingering at the world of mortals, I became a martyr in the cycle of life, gently bouncing off the dust on my body. Who has exhausted the thoughts of the end of the world, those prosperous sorrows have become the past, leaving me alone to find and gently look for traces of the past. A west wind blew my mind away. In this life, who promised to give me half a city of smoke and sand? A thorn in a tree hurts my eyes. Who will protect me from death in this life? No one can understand the language of flowers, who is lingering with flowers.

Fifteen, with a flick of a finger, the song is scattered and the thoughts are scattered; Striking the strings, like a slender wind, who do you miss? The feelings around the fingers and the attachment of life have interpreted the homesickness year after year in the sound of pipa and piano; Love is deep, loneliness is hard to hide, and whispers in my ears are like sighs when flowers fall; Love is endless, and everyone will feel pity when they are lonely all their lives, spreading silently in the hazy air; The flood of running water, with all the breeze, dyed the writing paper white.

Sixteen, the element refers to the flick, the frost is innocent, a curtain of dreams is close to the railing, and the wind kisses the window lattice. It is your deep eyes overlooking, with tenderness, spreading the softness of the whole world, shallow as blue, bypassing my hair tips, and swallowing it gently, just for you. There is a dream in the world of mortals, and the years are fleeting. Time flies, the dust is misty, and the feelings are sincere and sincere. I can only give you this life. Purple smoke is drunk, willows are red, clouds are fluttering, shadows are elegant and light, blooming in your sea of clouds, picking your favorite heart in my pink core.

Seventeen, who wants to live alone for a lifetime, who wants to live alone, if it is not too deep to control, how can it be as cold as ice!

Eighteen, flowers are similar every year, and people are different every year. Stumbling pious prayer and collapse in Buddhism have been developed into unnecessary persistence by years, so the touching poems under the pen tip have become irreparable memories, and those once imaginations and childishness flow in the innocence of life.

Nineteen, support the soft and pour the national color, elegant and peerless.

Twenty, fate is predestined, and fate is taken from people.

Twenty-one, finally covered the world for the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River. After the glory of China, it was just a scene, and the mountains and rivers were silent forever.

Twenty-two, listen to ancient songs, listen to feelings rather than listen to "sound", songs are not sensational, just because they have not reached the sensational place.

Twenty-three, the past is lazy, the moon is in front of us, the wind gently shakes the leaves, the early autumn dusk is rustling, and the homesickness is sad. Who can comfort, the mood is sad and thin, the night is still early, who doesn't sleep, the moonlight is sad and tearful, and he is alone, thinking or breaking, the moss turns into snow late, the flowers don't thank, and he forgets, and thousands of cities are not found. Tao is reincarnation and forgets Sichuan.

Twenty-four, the dream of a beautiful city, people who have broken their hearts always start to linger and leave the stranger.

Twenty-five, the dust is long, the wind is blowing gently, the valley is shallow and soft, the moonlight fills the air, and the veils dance. But whose shadow is elegant, caressing the whispers of branches and leaves, shaking the dust, thinking, faint, clear, lotus skirt, Shanshan, Xin Feng, touching the long-cherished wish of swaying stars in the thin shadow.

Twenty-six, listen to the string break, break three thousand infatuation. Falling flowers, forgetting, once the wind rippled. If the flower is pitiful, it will fall on whose fingertips.

Twenty-seven, the ancients said that although there are hundreds of defects, it is better to be evil, and the evil in evil is to destroy people.