Endless acacia, endless love.

A bridge is called helplessness. A river, called Forgetting River. On the banks of Sansheng Stone, Iraqis are still there. I am willing to accompany you to laugh three thousand times, leaving a wound without regrets. Remember, people are like jade, breaking the void. Unfortunately, Hong Fei has tried his best to worry about every word, and it is hard to think about it. Between the mirror and the hidden moon. He smiled and drank Meng Po soup. She won't cry for beauty. As sad as parting. If there is an afterlife, it will be a beautiful city.

Lonely Chen, her hair is all messed up; Whose time has passed by by the Sansheng River? Who drank Meng Po's soup on Naihe Bridge and carved this distant miss? Forgetting, sentimental! The red line that is wrongly tied to Yue Lao's hands has been astringent for thousands of years. Like water, I cannot stop thinking about it; Irises fall, making you gentle all your life; The full moon is not full, and the oath is sad. In the end, flowers bloom in that life and fall in this life.

Still water, surging and singing, as beautiful as flowers, just because you look back, I often think of the morning and evening. Turning around, a wisp of incense is far away, the snow is shallow, the spring is thick, and the smile is deep. A leaf blooms in pursuit, a flower blooms in the world, and acacia lasts for life.

Tang poetry style, Song poetry rain, ink dyed glass, quiet and lingering. The spring rain is soft, the pipa is thin, the rain lane falls and the flowers fall. Dream back to Jiangnan, drunk for a thousand years. Old trees, small bridges, flowing water, oil-paper umbrellas and bluestones dream of returning to Jiangnan thousands of years ago. The wind blows flowers and shadows, dragonflies dance and get drunk, and the neon is clear. The ups and downs on the canal cause smoke waves, and the entangled bubbles tease loneliness in the air. At the railing, the breeze is full of sleeves. Who is swaying in Lilac Hutong?

Passionate and affectionate. Love, print two hearts. Against the secular dust, the flying eagle is more and more relieved. Your kindness drives me crazy. So charming, so pathetic. Small hands embrace each other and tender feelings depend on each other. The lingering embroidery obscured the spring scenery. A smile is your heart, and a word warms my heart. Looking back on the unfinished fate of the previous life, I was filled with emotion and blamed Meng Po. Missed the wishes of several generations of buddhas. Yuanyang's neck has become empty. There is no end to hatred.

The dusk was light and cold, and Nagato was locked out. Quietly, first frost, Chrysanthemum fragrance comes to music, and you hate only tears. Speaking of beer, how can we not see the bright spring, the moon on the pond bank, the drunkenness before and today's deep sleep, no one surprises tourists in the deep courtyard, and the swing swings through the tears of dusk. The court is full of misty rain and flowers, and no one says loneliness. As long as the scenery is good, we will often get together. As long as we don't think about it, the singers in the north will keep singing and take Iraq home.

Mourning Zheng blows heartbroken, the east wind blows resentment, and sorrow gathers eyebrows. Whose promise gave heaven and earth, the cold and green on the eyebrow peak has been exhausted, the frost has been exposed by the well, and I have traveled thousands of miles, but I have not met anyone. I miss you day by day. Who should I turn to for help? I can't sleep under the residual light, and the light moon entering the window is as light as water, like tears. Who is the solitary bridge open to? Flowers are flying all over the sky, and it's so charming that Di Mei plays the Yangguan song.

The night is chilly, tossing and turning, worrying and sleepless. Sauvignon Blanc, infinite. Leaning against the cold window, the moon is bright and bright. Tears exchange, wine sings, and it's hard to understand. What is a good time? Duh, spit, one person is injured. The quality is slim, adding a little leisure and trouble, and the beauty is gaunt. I think it's a long way to go, so I can't send you lovesickness. Worrying about guilt, why comfort suffering?

Drunk at dusk last night, I sang off the fireworks and flew out, and the Iraqis sent the sunset. Looking at the horizon, heartbroken people hate distant mountains. Dreams follow the yellow flowers, accompanied by dew and water. Birds are drunk, you wake them up. Seeing the waning moon in Xiao Feng again, I am even more worried and depressed. Light love, the world of mortals always encounters vicissitudes.

The oblique wind was wrapped in drizzle, which lightly wetted the empty courtyard, closed the heavy door and saw no guests, and all the smoke fell, and Liu complained that it was cold. Zheng Hong, wake up and read poetry geometry. Dangerous rhyme stirs the loneliness in my heart, and thousands of thoughts start from scratch. Upstairs for a few days, the curtain is covered, and the cold fragrance is broken. Looking at the sky with sad eyes, the tung flowers are exhausted, and the smoke gathers autumn water, making people a guest at the end of the world.

Look at the flowers in the fog, the moon in the water, the forest is dyed, the sea of clouds looks at the sky, the birds sing courtship, talk to people in silence, the money is confusing, and the truth is revealed. Who can stop it? Love for a lifetime, resentment for a lifetime, pure one year. True and false faces, I don't know what to say when I laugh, and the words of warning are on my lips, whose hearts are connected. The news is boundless, the voice is short, and the world is floating dust. Why do you think of the Millennium?

Things are cold and warm, things are impermanent, and they are all sad and tearful. Let bygones be bygones, but when I look back, the situation is different. Time goes by, time goes by, what is the end? I still remember that at dusk, Ji was beside Qingsu, and the birds were on their way home. Worrying about you, autumn water turns into ice, which makes people sad. Have fun when you are young, but remember when you are old. The years are quiet, but the past is sad.

The fog is hazy, people are gone, love is empty, who has been with * * * for about a hundred years? A thousand miles of sorrow. I can't stop cutting, but I can't stop thinking about it. I feel sad in my heart. Who are my eyes crying for? The moon is black and the stars are heavy, the cold wind is coming, and the cold rain is coming. Who knew I couldn't sleep all night? Sanqiu is even colder. The wind is going to stop, the rain is resting, the lake is uneven and the waves are swaying slightly.

Who knows, the knot is in ruins. Where the world of mortals is rolling, love and hate are just a few hesitations. Since ancient times, lovers have always been hurt mercilessly. Forget the words in my heart, leaving only a thousand lines of acacia tears. When the string is broken, the pain is hidden. Lonely place, leaning against the west window.

Tears hang on my cheeks, my hands protect my eyelids, I whisper and complain on the side, I look through my chest and don't want to sleep. Day after day, I feel pity, raise mountains in the flower season, and don't covet the sun and the moon. I only complain that mosquitoes and flies can't be prevented, and the flowers are not adjusted to thank the new injuries, and my heart is still full of tears. Shut up and read green onions and dye them in black wood. When you are in danger, you learn nature by sitting, and it's hard to laugh when you cut your hair. In dusty places, flowers tempt heroes, and spring is hard to become a dream of spring breeze.

A bustling place, a page of notes, a wisp of smoke in front. Crow, break the dream of agarwood, white hair hates Yang. The explanation is that the red stroke is sighing, and the frost is cold. Since ancient times, men's beards have been like cucumbers, abandoning pearls and crossing the sea.

At the top of the tree, after dusk, the soft wind rolls a bead curtain. Phoenix eyes, eyebrows, light makeup. The jade hand plays clothes, the sound is like a spring, every sentence is fascinated, and the sake is acacia.

Time flies, flowers are low and graceful. Peach blossoms are biased, lightly painted, miss beautiful women, and lean against the east wall. As soon as I turned around, I was in a trance. For a moment, I couldn't bear to watch it, and a gust of wind passed. Under the west cold bridge, the waves gently shake, a journey of misty rain meets, a wave of the hand meets, a wave of the pipa is in the end of the world, and I have been in your night painting all my life. Even love at first sight extends to Fanghua, loving you for thousands of years and holding hands for thousands of years.

Sighing at the window, broken dreams and empty sadness, cold words are picturesque. Spring is full of wine, but tears for love are late. The night is boundless and my heart is cold for a long time. Don't complain, talk with tears, everything is like a dream. The red candle mourns itself, but the light alone is hard to sleep. Under the full moon, no one knows No one asked and no one pitied me. Now, I'm lying in front of the lamp, worried. Who knows, who can listen.

A bright moon, looking back who is missing. A glass of turbid wine makes you drunk. One spring, who is Peach Blossom? Looking back, who did you meet? A little rhinoceros, to whom is true love given? Take care, who did Tianya send? After a while, who sent the fish book? The curtain of dreams, who missed the railing. A frosty wind, snow and rain brought who. Only by singing in a low voice can you be infatuated with someone. A kind of lovesickness, who is the leisure worry for?

Think about it, how many times can a cup of dust gather? Wake up like a dream, the candle in the west window is cold, so the pavilion, whoever has wine and tea under the table, the thin horse attracts the soul, who is the white gauze. I'm sorry about Meiyu. I'm drunk, too. On March 3, the silence has passed, but I can still row in the middle of the lake. Whoever stays will leave. If you pass by, the apricot blossom will continue, and one day a glass of green wine will be spilled. It's ridiculous. Don't sigh. Looking back, it was mottled and bleak, with a cold wind and no pity.

The rain turns over the clouds, and the feelings are narrow and wide, and the clouds overwhelm the water country. This wish is as good as fate. Picking lotus leaves makes me feel sad again. I hate that I haven't climbed the ladder. At this time, when you are drunk, how can you see the grass outside the door crying? You have no plans at the moment. How can you wake up the dream of Jiangnan with a sieve in the oblique wind and drizzle? Looking back at parting, I should be drunk and not awake. After a while, the plum blossoms will be exhausted, and the willow branches will be scattered. Go back and forth and let others do it.

When the mountain is far away, the smoke from the jade stove is as light as gauze, dreaming of butterflies in the bamboo garden, swallows pecking at the sand, flying willows when Jiang Mei is away, hibiscus blooming out of the water and smiling at the precious duck. Who misses her, whose eyes are frozen with water, and half a poem becomes a joke. You Huaijiao hates to send fallen flowers, and meet under the moon. Take off makeup and wash your face at night, and half a roll of Danqing is drunk under the lamp. The old branches of plum blossoms are in full bloom, and the spring sleeping Haitang wakes up with tears.

It is hard to stay sad in this world, and the world of mortals shakes off tears. If you don't look back, infatuation is drunk. How is it possible if it is not the last bitter heartbreak? Acacia is as cold as frost every night. Pour a glass of green wine and get drunk, but I don't know that the faint loneliness is so embarrassing, and the road ahead is long. I can't erase it, but the words are still so sad. I'm really, I'm fake, I'm stupid, I laugh.

Flashy life, forget a season. Empty memories disturb the lingering. The smile is gone, and Qian Qian is absolutely lonely. String, thinking about China. Those years were like a dream. Like running water, it's gone forever. Don't leave crying, don't complain about the last sadness.

Residual flowers wither, bloom late, and want to be thousands of miles poor. A few clear fruits, twisted by hand, smell fragrant, frown, elegant and bitter. Turn your head and stare, the sun sets, the curtain is round, and the world of mortals says goodbye. However, the earth is silent and lonely. In front of the desk, I wrote silently, and the ink spilled on ordinary paper, and I was speechless.

There is an elegant orchid in a quiet valley, lamenting your talent and appreciating your chivalry. Stay and get to know each other. The friendship between gentlemen is persistent and sincere. I believe in the beautiful friendship between people, look for elegance, have a heart in spirit, and talk and laugh with you between Tang poetry and Song poetry. Years are quiet, laugh at the clouds, look at the clouds.

Life is like a dream, gathering and parting, and dying like a spring curtain. How many times meet, how many times leave, how many times come and go? In a blink of an eye, looking back indifferently, how many vicissitudes are in my heart. Tears flow alone.

Residual clouds and green grass, the soul is broken by the sound of returning to the flood. There are no traces of people trapped in the snow. The smoke from the stove in the quiet room behind the window is straight, and the sound of candles in the corner makes the air leakage worse. Looking out, the cows are fighting for the dawn, and the spring is infinite. Look at the flowers, mourn the flowers, and lament. Who said the old cold went with the wind? The cold hasn't disappeared. Every year in Chun Xue, I still indulge in plum blossoms.

That night, along the pulse of time and space, who treasured the thin cocoon paper, but remembered the gurgling of Lanting River. That cup and bottle, whose expectation is that, passed in front of you, singing and singing, but intoxicated in poetry. In late spring, the peach blossoms were wet with rain, the petals were stained with acacia, and the willows kept cutting. At night, when the wind blows, I can't shake the heart of the moon and become a hook on the horizon.

The moonlight is hazy, looking forward to the Millennium, admiring the meaning and freshness. Quiet inside, dreaming like a cloud, danced in a dress, flicked the piano and carried the light sound of the years, crossed the Qian Shan and set foot on a poem. Singing softly, talking nonsense, dreaming of water towns, blue waves rippling. Deep in the bamboo forest, there are hundreds of spells. Copying in the misty rain of Jiangnan. Do not compete with the world, listen to the sound of running water, no dust.

Gently roll up the curtains, the memory of flowers is like brocade, scattered like clouds and smoke, the moon falls in the water, holding a slender ray of moonlight, and I find the clear and pure share I am familiar with. Looking for dreams, dyeing a finger is colorful, like a butterfly smiling. A touch of time, a touch of tranquility, a sense of leisure, a sigh, so quiet and beautiful.

Tianya dream can't come back, people are quiet and soft, eyebrows are locked and mountains are wrinkled, and clothes are light and cold. The heavy curtain hangs down deeply to cover the bleak, and the autumn wind sweeps away the loneliness after the court. The yellow flowers that look up are sparse, and the fragrance is not exhausted. Who can see through the past, looking back, only two sleeves left, sad for the old friend.

It is said that acacia is not sad, why are the ends of the earth not together? At that time, I was smart, difficult to understand fate, and regretted it too late. Acacia is hard to get back. Millennium expectations will eventually turn to dust. Don't look back, it will always be a flashy dream, and the ancient songs are still heartbroken. Where did the word come from? When the world of mortals falls, although there are differences, it is difficult to understand the sorrow and always unforgettable. Tears seep into your clothes, and you think most. Young and frivolous, you will feel hurt, tears will taste ... if you don't know, what's the matter?

Outside the window, it is more exposed and smoky. I want to ask, what is the night? Under the porch window, who is dressing in front of the fragrant pavilion mirror? The wind blows flowers and falls. Pipa rang, rouge rained, and it took a good night. Finally, the deserted blue and white flowers passed by again, leaving only flowers and dreams, and finally it was vain. People will wake up, but dreams will not fade. Vision, romance, like clouds, like water, like poems, like paintings, like the moon, like songs, like tears, like magic, like the wind, falling in different places in the south of the Yangtze River.

The moon is like a hook, half leaning on the laurel tree. A full bottle of wine and a bunch of autumn cream, I want to say something from my heart. Drink to drown one's sorrows, and add sorrow to it. In the middle of the night, people are drunk and dreaming, and their sleeves are wet. The night wind didn't know the sufferings of the world, but stole half a lamp, making the house sad.

The lyre plays cicadas silently, and insects sing at night in Jing Ya. Out of the mountain, the distant axis is dusk, and it is difficult to stop the pear blossoms in the years. Wandering in the spring, the residual smoke in the jade stove is as light as yarn. Dreaming back to the butterfly lodge in the bamboo garden, fighting grass and new green swallows pecking at sand, Jiang Meifei willows the past, leaning against the fence to relieve the rain at dusk, hurting spring is just sighing at spring flowers.

The orchid refers to the soft voice, but I don't see your loneliness. Cold painting leaves broken dreams, gently picking pears and drinking tears. Tonight, there is a cold rhyme of Song Yao, butterflies drunk with stars, and the piano sounds faint with plum blossoms. Maple leaves are dyed red by the sunset glow, and a hymn is played for whom. A Leng Yue shines in my heart, which makes it hard to be warm. Qian Sha made a butterfly shadow, and the butterfly language was long. Jin Ju lit a lamp and thought about dyeing the porch.

Who, kiss my eyes, cover my half-life displacement; Who holds my hand and eliminates my half-life loneliness; Who touches my face and soothes my half-life sorrow? Who is it, holding my shoulder and driving me to be silent all my life; Who can understand me so that I have no regrets in my life? I, holding your hand, * * * you have weathered all your life; I, kiss my eyes and give you the love of my life. I, holding your hand, take away all your life; I, caressing my neck, will protect you from the storms of your life.

With the flick of the kiss-xiu, a shadow appeared in the dance. At the heartbroken place in Long song, many beauties danced freely with the tune lamenting the lost in the Millennium. Under the cover of heavy make-up, a period of tenderness, a period of lovesickness, a shocking confession of a player, how many literati's fireworks blurred sentences are old.

Shake with the wind and comb your hair with your hands. The flowers were thin and thick, and his clothes were sweaty. Chai Jin was too shy to see the flowers fall, holding Suyun. The wine is thick and drunk. The breeze sends you, the fragrance disappears in the dream, and you wake up in the mirror. Snow on the temples, red candle flowers, under the window of the deep spring porch in the yard, heavy curtains cover the moon shadow flowers. Looking at the horizon without words, whoever looks at Meiyu from the floor is like her under the umbrella.

A cup of green tea, a bunch of brocade, a square inkstone, a scroll of ancient rhyme and a simple heart are immersed in ink and wash, thus depicting the years as water without asking for anything.

That world is long, not to build the next world, but to meet you outside the road. The love of that life is not for eternity, but for being with you all my life. I was lonely all my life, not because I was waiting for a new love, but because I didn't love you in this life.

Looking back on the world, who can rely on this life? The so-called Iraqis, water side, hard to rely on, tears flow thousands of times! A person leaning against the window, the bright moon in the sky, looking around, a person sad! Love is hard to cut, lovesickness is hard to break, I think about it day and night, and I look forward to it every night! Time flies, how can it be wasted? Beauty is easy to get old, but how to flow? If you are interdependent, don't leave!

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. There are trees on the mountain and branches on the tree. My heart likes you. You don't know that. When all the flowers and waves are gone, I will be alone with you. The sky is not old, and the love is hard to break. The heart is like a double screen with a Qian Qian knot in it. Elegance refers to quicksand, and old age is a period of time. Hand over the mountains and rivers and smile for you.

Life is like a dream, whose face is faint and lingering in the dream? If love is like water, whose thoughts are shallow and beautiful on paper? The red dust is helpless! The world says that time is like running water. Who is decorating whose dreams, who is performing who? Whose story did we experience the vicissitudes of Qian Fan? Sigh that there are always people in this world who can't forget, can't solve the knot, can't solve the troubles, worries and loneliness, and for whom ...

How many mortals pass by, how many clouds pass by, and when we say goodbye, the world is scattered. Butterfly water sleeve dance breeze, Wen Yusheng smoke piano geometry; In the dream, the dream of selling incense to Iraqis is still the same, and abortion is still the same; Yuanyang drunk beside Qinhuai River, osmanthus flying in the palace. Drunk eyes, tears make people look good. My heart is still missing, my love is stranded and my life is scattered, but I can't leave that summer, and I will always leave my thoughts in that fleeting time.