Grey streets, unseen crowds, and growing flower seasons are scattered in the misty rain. I don't know where, but far away, the trees are verdant. In the rain, they are more green and luxuriant. Leaves are fresh under the rain. And those flowers are withered after the rain. Even though the colors are bright and colorful, they are all interested Pity, it's really painful. Is the flowering season going to change? How can we lose our time and wait for the rest of our lives? Now we are speechless, silent and standing in the rain. Let the curtain dream, rain by rain, and find our own roots and sources! Watching the sweet fragrance in the prime of life, chasing dreams in the distance, leaning against the windowsill of time frequently, all of them fall red. Which one is the stamen etched on the road, the Mountain Alliance depending on life and death, with the time, the loneliness urging people to grow old, filled in the air, everywhere is the breath of thinking, Set aside the heavy silence of time, who is charming in the splendor of the sunlight, drink a small order, add a flap of sweetness, murmur and flow, meditation and you meet, that is how happy things, do not ask sadness and joy, don't say discrete, only in this glass flower, bloom a curtain of quiet dream Qingxi. In the middle of the night, I will turn around a thousand times, twirl and sing my heart words, flow into a song, a cavity of deep feeling and self intoxication, tenderness like water, low eyebrow and smile, you will always be at the corner of your mouth, floating and charming, fragrance like sleeves, just right; this pulse of heart thoughts, in the moonlight and breeze, only for one person, blooming scenery, or thick or light, or deep or light, are all smiling, murmuring heart sound, quiet feeling in a cup shadow, A curtain of dreams, back to the silhouette, reverie of Yan son back when the moon filled the West Tower, a total of west window cutting candle, Bashan night talk. That curtain of dreams, good wishes, in the time of boiling rain, exudes a light Qingxi, take a light drink slow goods, sit alone on the top of the mountain, the water of the Mekong, to fragrance smile, warm simple like, accompany the yearning day and night, return to the hometown of dreams Then, pick up a wind, flowers, snow and moon, twirl a finger of green leaves and whisper, go to lay a window on the words and light up the memory of the city of 3000, can you? Stagnate that time and space, heavy so that the fragrant period in the golden age, smell the memory of the curl of fragrance, feel the gentle breeze into the bosom of happiness. A curtain of dreams, my heart belongs to, can be seen in the bustling world of mortals. When the dust is settled, only one of my favorites is this one, the weak water is 3000, and I only drink this scoop of water. As many summer flowers are laid out, only one person's eyebrows are fixed, and only one person's heart is buried in the poem line. With that poetic feeling, I paint a que of flat and narrow artistic conception. Maybe in the desert 3000 years away, I rode by, maybe in the south of Moyu, Qingdai Gao Deep in the wall, here or there, from then on, love deeply grows under the eyebrows, never leaving each other, never forgetting. As long as we snuggle up together, we will have a happy life!