An 8-word essay or poem

autumn whispers The autumn wind is coming, the high and low autumn moon is rising, the deep and shallow autumn rain is falling, and the thick and faint autumn is approaching. I love autumn so much. Is that thick green your eye? Is that shallow red your shy smile? Is that dancing leaf your dancing heart? Is that faint fragrance your enchanting beauty? Bamboo shadows by the window, and orchids send incense by the wind. The wind will float for a while, and the smoke will be high but not bad. Raise my misty eyes, pick a orchid, pour a cup of fragrant tea, and wander alone in autumn's arms. I am happy and naughty, like a naughty child, swaying romance and freedom, singing poetry in the wind, singing songs in the rain, picking a lamp while drunk, watching a sword in my dream, and turning this autumn into an altar of alcohol for thousands of days. Castle peak at the door, white clouds at the door, bright moon at the window, cool breeze blowing the seat. Leaning against the window, with a roll in my hand, accompanied by good friends, cooking tea and talking, I was happy this night. Chatting about ancient and modern times, quietly playing with mountains and rivers, and drinking tea and wine are suitable for leisure. Happy years, autumn night talk, endless joy, only hate the short days. Lying high in the restaurant, the red sun does not urge poetry to wake up; The book is full of flowers and pavilions, and the white clouds are always fragrant with ink marks. Polygonum multiflorum and white apple make up a school of autumn looks, and spend a few minutes to arrange autumn colors. The colorful autumn scenery stopped me, the happy and sweet autumn made me intoxicated, the charming autumn made me think, and the romantic and warm Qiu Ge made me linger. I love singing songs about wine and singing poems on the breeze. I am lost in this thick Qiu Li and in this deep Qiu Li, and I am transformed into an autumn lover. And that autumn, because of my infatuation, not only gave birth to lofty sentiments, but also gave me all kinds of care and love for autumn. It's warm and sunny in autumn. Bathed in this autumn sun, I'm drunk for autumn, and autumn smiled at me ... It's lonely in late autumn. I'm a little lazy this autumn. I'm too lazy to draw my eyebrows, change my clothes, read books, read discs and talk, but my tears flow more frequently. This autumn, I have a little amblyopia. I can't see the mountains, the clear water, the clouds, the moon, only you. You, are you a book? Clear and elegant, smiling proudly at ancient and modern times, lingering over me, the book is full of poetry, the tea is fragrant, the wine is recited, and the piano and the instrument are in harmony. You, is that a song? Lang lang Ming, long aftertaste, dripping with me, dancing and dancing, petals stained with clothes, fragrant grass, good scenery and beautiful days. Are you, the wind? Slowly and slowly, it is warm and warm, and it surrounds me gently and softly. The wind dances at dusk, and the fragrance is full of sleeves, and the heart is fragrant and enchanting. You, is it rain? While the silk is still, it moistens things silently, and it covers me closely. The rain is wet on the swing, and it is light and green, blowing flowers and chewing the core, and counting the return date. Are you a sword? Rainy, bold and unrestrained, shaking me vigorously, firm but gentle as a rainbow, full of books and flowers, a trace of tenderness, will be attached to my heart. You, is it wine? Strong and strong, high-spirited, I am dizzy and dizzy, and the wine has turned into acacia, and there are thousands of deep feelings, just for the madness of the king. In the dead of night, people are quiet and cold, and it is difficult to gaze at the blue sky, and Ying Ying is separated from sorrow, so it is impossible to send acacia. I am afraid of listening to the sound of beating the forest, and my tears are full of beauty. Since ancient times, I have been sad for a long time, and the wind and the moon are dying. Standing by the window, there is nowhere to ask for a return trip. One kind of lovesickness, two places of sadness. Drunk alone, clear your worries and get your clothes wet. The flowers have fallen, and I am afraid of waking up. Watching the flowers fall after the rain at dusk, sighing that lovesickness is attached to the bone. Oh, that's all, that's all. Don't mention the sad things. And invite the bright moon to accompany me to get drunk and forget the eternal sorrow in the world ...