A blossoming spring, a smile meeting a romantic and heartwarming encounter, like a poem.
Time is never opportune, the second month of spring has come, but the old pomegranate tree downstairs doesn't sprout new buds. It knows the building is going to be demolished, and life will eventually end. There's no need to sprout new buds!
The bottom layer of old plum trees, due to the owner's departure, had no watering for two years, and had already withered and died. Suddenly, smelling incense, it recalled the winter in Chengdu. But it still withered.
Flowers are fragrant, but the wind doesn't know.
Flowers face the wind, unaware of the seasons.
The dim light of the window reflects a fading image, only the withered tree, can it welcome the spring?
In the arrangement of fate, those who are destined to go will eventually leave, and those who are destined to stay will eventually stay!
Butterfly Lovers, Fish Tail Xia, and Bright Tree
Zhou Bingyan
Fish Tail Xia creates bright trees.
The wall is covered with sky, jade leaves wave in the wind.
A smile meets the sea, walk along the Peng Hai Road. The world's joys and sorrows are like dust.
The beautiful appearances are fleeting, and even the setting sun is beautiful at dusk.
Many years ago, when I was in elementary school, the setting sun at dusk was as red as noon, rushing towards the sky, staining half the sky with red.
That shade of red, as big as a car wheel.
Looking, looking, but not blinding.
The sunset is near dusk, and the most beautiful sun is at dusk.
This worldly pursuit, this fleeting life, seems to have passed a thousand years.
And the sun's old friend, has never abandoned it, how many times have we seen it?
The crowd is restless and melancholic, obsessed with regrets, but no one can step outside the three realms.
Should I question existence?
The falling flowers are like a dream, turning into sorrowful fragments.
Lightly indulge in youthful memories, staining fingers with the vicissitudes of life, having seen the changes of day and night, sighing at the long twilight and wind, and the falling plum blossoms speak of joy and sorrow.
A maple tree in early autumn, the osmanthus rustles in the autumn breeze.
Put it in a book, I want to remember what?
Life is too much to remember, too much to forget.
The book of life, where can it be completely dried and collected?
In one moment, the gains and losses, let it go with a pot of wine, let it be mad, it can also dispel sorrow.
Should I question existence?
The falling flowers are like a dream, turning into sorrowful fragments.
Lightly indulge in youthful memories, staining fingers with the vicissitudes of life, having seen the changes of day and night, sighing at the long twilight and wind, and the falling plum blossoms speak of joy and sorrow.A maple tree in early autumn, the osmanthus rustles in the autumn breeze.
Put it in a book, I want to remember what?
Life is too much to remember, too much to forget.
The book of life, where can it be completely dried and collected?
In one moment, the gains and losses, let it go with a pot of wine, let it be mad, it can also dissolve sorrow.
Should I question existence?The falling flowers are like a dream, turning into sorrowful fragments.
Lightly indulge in youthful memories, staining fingers with the vicissitudes of life, having seen the changes of day and night, sighing at the long twilight and wind, and the falling plum blossoms speak of joy and sorrow.A maple tree in early autumn, the osmanthus rustles in the autumn breeze.
Put it in a book, I want to remember what?
Life is too much to remember, too much to forget.
The book of life, where can it be completely dried and collected?
In one moment, the gains and losses, let it go with a pot of wine, let it be mad, it can also dissolve sorrow.
Should I question existence?The falling flowers are like a dream, turning into sorrowful fragments.
Lightly indulge in youthful memories, staining fingers with the vicissitudes of life, having seen the changes of day and night, sighing at the long twilight and wind, and the falling plum blossoms speak of joy and sorrow.A maple tree in early autumn, the osmanthus rustles in the autumn breeze.
Put it in a book, I want to remember what?
Life is too much to remember, too much to forget.
The book of life, where can it be completely dried and collected?
In one moment, the gains and losses, let it go with a pot wine, let it be mad, it can also dissolve sorrow.
Should I question existence?The falling flowers are like a dream, turning into sorrowful fragments.
Lightly indulge in youthful memories, staining fingers with the vicissitudes of life, having seen the changes of day and night, sighing at the long twilight and wind, and the falling plum blossoms speak of joy and sorrow.A maple tree in early autumn, the osmanthus rustles in the autumn breeze.
Put it in a book, I want to remember what?
Life is too much to remember, too much to forget.
The book of life, where can it be completely dried and collected?
In one moment, the gains and losses, let it go with a pot of wine, let it be mad, it can also dissolve sorrow.
Should I question existence?The falling flowers are like a dream, turning into sorrowful fragments.
Lightly indulge in youthful memories, staining fingers with the vicissitudes of life, having seen the changes of day and night, sighing at the long twilight and wind, and the falling plum blossoms speak of joy and sorrow.A maple tree in early autumn, the osmanthus rustles in the autumn breeze.
Put it in a book, I want to remember what?
Life is too much to remember, too much to forget.
The book of life, where can it be completely dried and collected?
In one moment, the gains and losses, let it go with a pot of wine, let it be mad, it can also dissolve sorrow.
Should I question existence?The falling flowers are like a dream, turning into sorrowful fragments.
Lightly indulge in youthful memories, staining fingers with the vicissitudes of life, having seen the changes of day and night, sighing at the long twilight and wind, and the falling plum blossoms speak of joy and sorrow.A maple tree in early autumn, the osmanthus rustles in the autumn breeze.
Put it in a book, I want to remember what?
Life is too much to remember, too much to forget.
The book of life, where can it be completely dried and collected?
In one moment, the gains and losses, let it go with a pot of wine, let it be mad, it can also dissolve sorrow.
Should I question existence?The falling flowers are like a dream, turning into sorrowful fragments.
Lightly indulge in youthful memories, staining fingers with the vicissitudes of life, having seen the changes of day and night, sighing at the long twilight and wind, and the falling plum blossoms speak of joy and sorrow.A maple tree in early autumn, the osmanthus rustles in the autumn breeze.
Put it in a book, I want to remember what?
Life is too much to remember, too much to forget.
The book of life, where can it be completely dried and collected?
In one moment, the gains and losses, let it go with a pot of wine, let it be mad, it can also dissolve sorrow.
Should I question existence?The falling flowers are like a dream, turning into sorrowful fragments.
Lightly indulge in youthful memories, staining fingers with the vicissitudes of life, having seen the changes of day and night, sighing at the long twilight and wind, and the falling plum blossoms speak of joy and sorrow.A maple tree in early autumn, the osmanthus rustles in the autumn breeze.
Put it in a book, I want to remember what?
Life is too much to remember, too much to forget.
The book of life, where can it be completely dried and collected?
In one moment, the gains and losses, let it go with a pot of wine, let it be mad, it can also dissolve sorrow.
Should I question existence?The falling flowers are like a dream, turning into sorrowful fragments.
Lightly indulge in youthful memories, staining fingers with the vicissitudes of life, having seen the changes of day and night, sighing at the long twilight and wind, and the falling plum blossoms speak of joy and sorrow.A maple tree in early autumn, the osmanthus rustles in the autumn breeze.
Put it in a book, I want to remember what?
Life is too much to remember, too much to forget.
The book of life, where can it be completely dried and collected?
In one moment, the gains and losses, let it go with a pot of wine, let it be mad, it can also dissolve sorrow.
Should I question existence?The falling flowers are like a dream, turning into sorrowful fragments.
Lightly indulge in youthful memories, staining fingers with the vicissitudes of life, having seen the changes of day and night, sighing at the long twilight and wind, and the falling plum blossoms speak of joy and sorrow.A maple tree in early autumn, the osmanthus rustles in the autumn breeze.
Put it in a book, I want to remember what?
Life is too much to remember, too much to forget.
The book of life, where can it be completely dried and collected?
In one moment, the gains and losses, let it go with a pot of wine, let it be mad, it can also dissolve sorrow.
Should I question existence?
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2020
