Shallow summer, the time in the dream

On a light summer night, the sky is full of stars, singing lonely words and dreaming, soaking the mood and stirring the scriptures. Is this God's will? The wind outside the window cut my curtains, cooled my thoughts and deepened my sadness. "Tears can finally be chased, and it is difficult to send without words." Dip in water as ink, write down idle words, without heavy ink and heavy color, without trimming and whitewashing, only the touch marks of notes are dropped. At this moment, the wax torch turned to ash, only full of eyes. My eyes are burning in my heart, but my face is full of bitterness.

Life is complicated, I read you in a scattered place, I keep quiet in my heart, I dream in a lonely place, and the remnants of my dream add a little more pen and ink and disappointment, and I can't stay in the past, only silence, silently observing the fleeting time. I often introspect when I am sad, meditate when I am depressed, and meditate after I am prosperous. There is too much oppression and shackles, too much suffering and inequality in reality. Only through the expansion of humanistic consciousness and the pursuit in the imaginary world can we reproduce the beautiful image in our dreams.

Drama life, we have withered and withered, lonely. I can't let go of my tired mood. Romance, dry kunriyue, whether you are a performer or an audience? Life is like a hasty play! Reading you, you are a collection of poems; Pinyou, you are a bosom friend. Silent time flies, standing in front of the window, looking at the bamboo shadow, the quiet night scene is shallow, fluttering and swallowing, holding a cup of forgetful water, the past is like smoke, and all the stories are interpreted as historical clouds. An emotional disaster is being staged.

I use my cool fingertips to caress loneliness, write down a moment's memory and write the past days into words. Xia Feng in June, with the frivolous heat, brought your figure into my dream. When I just woke up, I heard a whisper on a hot summer night through the cold windowsill, where your tenderness lurked. Before I could feel it carefully, I smelled a trace of bitterness.

In fact, this is just a memory that I insisted on writing down in my dream. Although the writing is still smooth, the ending is always so sad. Writing silently, words from the bottom of my heart. My heart is bleeding. An ordinary piece of paper will never write 3000. How much time has the four seasons taken away? Looking back, everything is fleeting, leaving a trace of bitterness in my heart.

Looking out of the window, in the boundless darkness. Counting the stars in the sky alone, watching the meteor cross the night sky and disappear in the distance, leaving only a long trail. In fact, I have always used sentimental words to describe my attachment to you in an understatement. During the meeting, I wandered, always avoiding your affectionate eyes, so that I missed the appointment. Perhaps, there is a nostalgia, there will be a persistent. Just, across the horizon, how can I tell you?

Time flies and the fragrance is overflowing. On the night of June, I have arrived in Xia Feng, and there are always some lingering stories in my sleepless thoughts, floating at my fingertips like clouds, and the night is like water, but I want to lean against the window quietly and look at the starry sky silently. However, there are a few lingering attachments that will overflow my mind inadvertently. When waiting becomes the shadow of the wind, the past will pour out in my heart, and the family that is hard to give up will suddenly become a desolate wilderness, and no one will pay attention to it.

The warm wind in early summer caressed the cold windowsill, and the bitter feeling spread wantonly on this midsummer night, devouring the only hope in my heart. Your gradually blurred back always appears in front of my eyes, but I can't capture that old face anymore. Meeting is the warmth of Dharma Excalibur seal cutting. "Point directly at people's hearts, regard nature as Buddha, don't write words, and teach people." After meeting, it was all a love.

Because of meeting, I am doomed to use sadness as a foreshadowing, but what attitude should I take to pay homage to this lost time? In the long night sky, who are the thoughts overflowing with ink and fragrance? When my melancholy pen exudes the last bitterness, I have broken an extravagant hope and want to carve a dreamlike youth in the dissipated time. Everyone knows that giving up is the best ending. Maybe, I am too persistent.

The night is dim, and my thoughts are swaying. The pomegranate tree alone in the yard, under the dense green branches, sparsely hides a few purples. Whose heart shook the petals of pomegranate in June? It is not only the persistence that is hard to give up, but also a window of sorrow written in time.

I stood quietly by the window. I don't know if my heart will thaw on this hot night in June. The other side of your heart, like moonlight and water, is also gently sprinkled on your window. Does the breezy evening wind tap on your lintel? I am destined to be just a misty rain that stopped in your June yesterday, misty and scattered between clouds and water. Disappear instantly.

I can no longer explain all the desolation with clumsy words, but I am persistent and carve every scenery in the fleeting time. Whether you are here or not, you are still guarding the extravagant hopes. I can't enjoy this luxury without you. I'm just a little disappointed without you. Tonight, tender feelings are blooming at my fingertips, maybe it is Mo Yun, maybe it is full of paper. The breeze lifted the curtains, and I was at the enchanting window of the moonlight, listening to your distant footsteps, getting farther and farther.