Tears will flow back forever, tears will flow back forever, meet sadly in the middle of the night, fall in love for a long time, and leave the ferry with vows, but there is no promise of fate. Looking back, the tears make you say goodbye, the wandering edge loses the wronged memory, the rare tears still sweep away the accompanying dreams, the strange and clear pictures still embrace the indirect farewell, the trembling dreams are on the street corner of the face, and the farewell of words is fragrant with tears, in exchange for heartbreak.
Humble surrounded by revisiting the old date, Leng Fei saw the tears of stealing her heart, once fell asleep and embraced the sad experience, and reluctantly chose to sing love songs. Familiar infatuation has treasured strange tenderness, and boiling yearning has begun to set sail and break dreams. The charm of the melody danced with the microphone of the curse, and I couldn't help crying. The blessing of choice has regretted taking care of smart words. Autumn wind rolls the fields, and Qian Shan leaps into the brow.
At first, the impression irrigated the lingering fragrance of the world, and the exchange of broken songs was the eternal lingering fragrance. It is said that a dream of ten years is easy to hurt the body, and a wandering party shed two lines of tears. Desire in the sun has no initial chip, and youth is a winged wing that cannot belong to its own flight. Let go and disappear into tears. The ferry in the blue sky has one more step to go. The sunset is the other side of the dawn at first, and the carefree sky covers up the sadness of the rainbow. The scars that have been swept away are still so ruthless.
The sweetness of a thousand words sings the shy courage and the expression of a thousand words. There is no sunshine in the romantic night sky, and the raindrops of hope are hard to see the rainbow of blessings. What is the result of the joyful flowering mood? I can't sleep, enjoying the fatigue of house arrest, and the crack of intoxication makes my qualifications unable to recover. The horizon of the rainstorm is a distant destination. I am sober, stable and disappointed with the happiness of life. I feel that the leisure of precipitation has begun to change, and the paper I found has no heartstrings of falling ink. The night of time saved my soul.
The drifting ocean is full of doubts. Talking about the dream of chasing time is wandering, the intoxicating harvest can't be strong, and the escape of crying betrays too many grievances. The blessing of the blow has turned into the passage of tears, and the wet drunkenness has escaped the fate of dreams. Intentional traps have traces of breathing, kissing the beauty of the air, and you can't draw ordinary encounters, lingering homes, strong scenery and frozen thoughts, and desperate choices in the dark.
The floating story can't rewrite the tears of history. At first, it can only exist in the tears of dreams. All the floating words are not the description in my heart. The past of Buddhism is vivid. Speaking of that string of names, I cried, which is hard to say. Why did it end? The lines of the sequel are all in my heart. At the end of the illusion, there is a photo of insomnia. The adventure of the seat is thanks to the corner of my eye. The only habit is changed to air marks. Too late company can't recall too much, and happiness has been deleted.
Without touching the ground, it still drives the scenery like that. The broken Polaris grazes the embrace of the North Pole, which is a look back across the sea. There is no tomorrow for tearful love. Yesterday's kiss broke my heart and tears could not be separated. The story is amazing, the legend of dating can't travel back and forth, disturbing the pretend drama, thinking of familiar strangers, still so fascinated, unable to remember the ordinary road, still drunk. The imaginary heaven won't sing the dream of waiting, which is exhausting.
I have expressed too much in my mind about the past, and I don't know where to go. Looking at that era of flowers blooming, I can't reach the dream of the end of the world on the other side of my heart. With the arrangement of time, I have seen too many pictures, walking on the edge of the scenery, still so fragile, and I can't see the ups and downs when I look back. The romantic moon comes again, my fingers spread out, I wipe away too many wrinkles coming and going, breathe the maze of betrayal and walk on the cliff of people. How many rainbows have not been seen by the waiting heart, how much time can't erase the present appearance and return to the young drunken dream, the dazzling and transparent mirror still remembers too much, looking at the expression of proverbs, thinking about the location of dreams, tears in my mind, unable to recite the previous songs, the time is still so bright, the sunset is still dripping with intoxicating sleepiness, the time is silent, the place is silent, once, now there is no fragrance and warm ignorance. That kind of weakness makes the present heart so cold, that kind of beauty is not brilliant because it is fixed now, and that residual residual temperature illuminates the future, but it cannot illuminate the reduction of ownership.
If you don't return the ink, you still miss it. The past development has become the pursuit of the present. Past rotation is not today's harvest. The scroll of tears is connected with fragrant youth, but it can't go back to the warmth of time. When I woke up, I couldn't understand the past. Looking at the wheel of happiness, I took away the lucky time. Fortunately, the shadow behind him cried. The rendering of the taste can't change the lost tears, and let my thoughts be sorted out. The time to send a message is still in the past.
Looking back, you can't see the grassland described. The long-awaited love is gone, the romantic moon has been trampled, and tears are hard to remember. Flowers are a generation of youth, years are not nostalgic, but the door of the heart is far away. The irrigation of love is invisible and belongs to inner deception. The attachment of betrayal has been firmly taken away and turned into a debt of love. What is the change of inner expectation, what kind of words is the rainbow Covenant, boundless love or that boundless love. Tears are not the time to wash your face, so meet.
Breathing the luxury of experience, the confusion of embracing each other hides in the clock, the vague square makes the heartache silent, the crying of holding hands turns red and happy, and the occasional attention becomes the miss of the world. The story under the starlight has not stopped, and love has poured out to tell my heart. The helplessness of goodbye has been arranged, and the word "broken" is easily guessed by bitter tears. The feeling of calm gives up the ending song, and running water is a fairy tale that never goes home. The beauty of autumn makes it difficult to be alone.
Whose love is love, whose debt is affection, whose heart is hurt by turning around, whose dream is felt, whose heart is hurt by dreams, whose drunkenness is hurt by romantic splash, whose promise is made by tears, whose promise is lost by promises, whose life is doomed to never see again, whose life is heart, whose tears are taken away, whose luck is swayed by vertical and horizontal figures, whose face is allowed and who is drunk.
Listening to the happiness of birds singing in the middle of the night, in my drowsiness, I suddenly heard a "pea is ripe" and screamed in panic, as if to wash it away.
Living in the city, I haven't heard birds chirping for many years. The roaring trains, cars whistling all the way, repeated selling and harsh karaoke constitute a huge roar. We have been living in the hustle and bustle, and all kinds of senses are degraded.
The countryside is still quiet and beautiful. In my hometown, when I go deep into the countryside, my senses can be fully developed. I can see the blue sky, smell the flowers in the distance, feel the breeze blowing through my skin, and best of all, I can hear all kinds of birds singing.
When the cries of "Goo Goo-"and "Goo Goo-"sounded, spring came to my hometown. Whether it is day or night, in the fields or at the head of the village, the cuckoo calls one after another. I don't know if it's one or two. They always hide themselves. When they arrived at a certain place, they cried bluntly, like a shower of spring rain in every corner of their hometown. That cry is like the character of a villager. Not perfunctory, not ostentatious, shy is bold. The sound of "goo goo" made the villagers feel anxious, so every household shouldered hoes, picked up shovels, drove tractors or drove cattle, and began to be busy in the fields in spring. In the field, sheep are running, dogs are barking, and children are running all over the ground, scaring the pheasants in the wheat field and flying away.
After about three or five days, the swallow came. They are like city people. The first thing they should consider when they come back is the house. The house is expensive, and the couple will have to build it for a few days. Found last year's lair, cried excitedly, called a friend and invited him to be a guest; The homeless are busy with new mud by the puddle. Only when they have a rest can they say hello to their host. The social life of swallows is no different from that of humans. After building the house, they get married and have children. Soon, you will see two or three little heads sticking out of the nest, with thin and small voices full of childishness; When my parents came back, they all became loud, chattering and laughing, and the whole yard was full of family happiness.
Soon, the wheat seedlings turned yellow and the egrets came. Egrets belong to the type of high-end atmosphere. They often stop on the branches of the village and cry loudly, "Every household, the peas are ripe." Sometimes I can see their figures, small bodies, wearing yellow coats and black scarves, and singing hard. They grew up in the countryside and grew up in the countryside. They are simple and grateful. The crops nourished them. At this moment, they kept urging the villagers to harvest the crops. "Every family has ripe peas." The voice is full of expectation and anxiety that can't be concealed.
Magpie is the most common in rural areas, and villagers call it "noodle ink". Although their faces are black, they are good news messengers in the hearts of villagers. "Magpies call, relatives arrive." If a magpie crows on the branches of someone else's house, the host will be sweet all day and there will be happy events at home. The unique identity makes magpies very elegant. They won't bark at will, but they will "chirp" twice when they bark, and the rest is silence. Usually hiding in the fields, nesting in uninhabited Woods, rarely seeing their whereabouts, just like celebrities. Only during the Chinese New Year will they return to the village and stand on the roof chirping. Chinese New Year is coming, so I have to send some gifts and good news to the villagers.
In the city, you can't hear such birds singing. Occasionally I hear one or two, either from the birdcage, which is heartbreaking; Or it came from the park, full of sadness and homesickness. The birds that can be seen in the city are sparrows. They are a group of vagrants, who have lost their land to live on and can only make a living by picking up garbage. Even when I heard their social cries, I didn't feel happy and harmonious at all. Just like the citizens who live in the space separated by reinforced concrete, they sweep the snow in front of their doors and even die of old age.
And when you hear such a call, you need to have an indifferent mood. City people are too busy. They are busy making money, buying houses, getting married and having children. They don't want to go to the concert hall. Who will stop to listen to the birds? No one understands the language of birds, and no one can hear the kindness, joy, expectation and sadness of birds. They live in two different worlds with birds. In fact, have they ever listened to their own voices? The city is very prosperous and the information is very developed, but they close themselves off from the world.
Living in the city, I often miss the countryside and the birds singing in the countryside. It is a pleasure to listen to birds singing.
The woman who loves cigarettes quietly lights a cigarette, and your shadow is everywhere in the empty heart. I know I can only miss you at this time, but you are everywhere in my space. How can I miss you?
In the blue smoke, it is your illusory face. I know you by your words. There is a kind of writing in the world, which can go straight into the heart and lungs like smoke in the hand, wander in the chest and involve the five internal organs. I will remember from now on that a woman as ethereal and wise as an elf, who has penetrating power to touch her heart, is not tired of reading you a thousand times. Reading you feels like a bright moon and a cool breeze, like ups and downs, like flowers blooming and falling. What kind of blue-hearted girl can set off my rock-solid inner waves?
I read your articles one by one. You are free and elegant, showing the ultimate perfection and beauty. I use my poems and words to express my heart. I love you, love your words, love your bones, love your blood, you are like a spinning dancer. You only care about the most beautiful and graceful dance, no matter whether the applause is overwhelming or silent.
I got your phone number in the search, and I can't wait to call you, because we have known each other in the forum for a long time. Your professional greetings and refreshing laughter in the microphone made me speechless for a while, but I signed up and you greeted me. I know you are clever, and you have something to hide. I just want to offer my sincere greetings, but I'm not so lucky. You perfunctory me with words that are light in wind and light in clouds. You are entangled in my heart, how can I let it go easily?
Fall in love with smoking, fall in love with your words, addicted to smoking, quit smoking in my life, fall in love with you, like a woman in a cigarette, addicted, your face is hidden in my smoke, floating in front of my eyes, but I can't catch it. You said you were standing on the top of an infallible mountain. You said you were walking on thin ice. Be careful step by step. When I broke into your world in despair, you just responded politely. You said you were touched. You said you thanked me from the bottom of your heart. I don't want your touch and gratitude. I want to walk into your heart, feel your joys and sorrows, bear the ups and downs of life with you, and go to the forefront with you.
You are careful to guard against the secular cold knife, you refuse to take out your heart, you refuse to let go of your arms, you refuse to let me go deep into your lonely heart, you refuse to let me see your tears. I can only hold back and grieve for my incompetence. You try your best to smile brightly, but you can't hide your lonely sadness. You try to pretend to be secular, but you can't hide your innate lofty. You pretend to drink boldly. I know your heart is bleeding. You are not what you look like. Your words can't fool me. The sadness of cuckoo's weeping blood and the echo of that sentence in your heart can't be concealed by superficial secular greetings. Acacia is full of melancholy. I'm just an audience of your beautiful solo dance, but I don't want you to be a phoenix nirvana, lonely and sad. I just want you to be happy. As long as you show a real smile, you smoky woman always haunt my chest, making my heart and lungs tangled with pain, but there is nothing to do.
You said you didn't like the fireworks in the dark night. After the instant romance, it was dark and empty. You said that you can't bear the pain of falling flowers, and cherishing spring is often afraid of blooming early. I clearly see your inner struggle, and I clearly see your sensitive loneliness. You are like fireworks in the dark night sky, and you are like flowers in early spring, rooted in my empty field. I always thought I could understand you and warm your cold and loneliness, but I always lingered. I can't feel your heart beating all the time and I can't hold you in my arms. I use all my masculinity and blood to irrigate your lonely space. Your brilliant words, as light as smoke, as gentle as smoke, as erosion as smoke, penetrate my body and make me unable to let go. Your lonely words are like fog, so I can't capture your true face. You are a tempting spirit, which makes me fall in love with you like smoke, with the taste of your words and with your soul.
You, a smoky woman, wander in my chest, flow in my blood and permeate my soul until every hair is with me day and night, with my lips and teeth, with my breath and with my gestures. I have been integrated with you for a long time, falling in love with smoke and you, and your beautiful dance is in the green smoke. Let me surround you, fall in love with you and fall in love with loneliness.
There are also photos of my mother when she was young in the old photo frame on the wall, black and white. The two pink cheeks are painted by hand, but with a high nose, big eyes and two long braids, which are very nice. Plus a tall figure, my mother is a beauty. If a beautiful woman is not a good family, she should be a small family, gentle and lovely. But mom isn't. On the contrary, she is careless, furious and loud, and scolds us anytime and anywhere. She is as busy as an octopus every day. She will never give us an umbrella with a smile on a rainy day, nor will she hug us painfully when we get the certificate. She doesn't read books, newspapers, flowers or grass, and naturally she won't keep small animals. Those cats and dogs are dirty and noisy. Therefore, I always thought that my mother was not delicate and gentle.
Years gradually accumulated, and gradually precipitated into another photo of my mother, with a colorful background, pale face, wrinkled cheeks and old elegance. I wonder when that photo was posted. I don't know when I found out that my mother likes to keep some small animals.
There were some chickens at home at first. Every spring, my mother wants to buy some newly hatched chickens. Those furry, bright yellow and lively babies were carefully placed in wooden boxes with light bulbs hanging in them, and the warmth of the sun shone on them. In a few months, the chicken will become a rooster or a shy red-faced hen. "The cock kills and eats, and the hen leaves the eggs to eat." Mom said.
Later, there were a few more ducks at home, starting from the immature life like a baby ball. My mother drives them to the river every morning and calls them home at night. After a long time, the grown-up ducks gradually took the initiative. Every day at dawn, they call their mother to get up and open the door. They line up, say goodbye to their mother, and then go to the river to eat or play. When it was dark at night, they lined up again, shaking their fat asses and calling their mother to open the door and go home to sleep. Sometimes the door is closed, and they will never follow other ducks to other people's homes.
If my mother's motivation for feeding ducks is the same as that for feeding chickens, both are for eating or laying eggs, then I don't understand the use of those two little Dutch mice in the small cage at the stairs. They are mice, but they are cuter and more beautiful than mice. They are black and white, round and fat, and they eat and eat with their thin tails. Grass roots, peanut leaves, vegetables, rice grains, eat everything, and you will be very much in love when you are full. Mother often watches them for a long time on the stairs.
My mother has also started to keep cats and dogs, asking people if the kittens and puppies they are looking for are healthy and handsome, that's all, but she often picks up some "old, weak and sick" on the roadside for no reason. There is a kitten, critically ill, abandoned by its owner. Her mother picked it up and fed it with aspirin, Yinqiao tablets and Yunnan Baiyao. Chewed something for it to eat. My mother is hardworking and healthy all her life, except for her bad teeth. She chewed peanuts, pancakes and meat slowly with loose teeth, which worried us. She chewed up the food and put her finger in the cat's mouth. After several days of tossing, I finally found nothing and buried the cat completely.
Another time, I picked a little stray dog, ugly, ugly, with two eyes, one big and one small, with different colors and messy eyes; The shape of a domestic dog, but with the pointed ears of a German shepherd; The whole body's hair is brown and black, piece by piece. A mongrel dog, a mangy dog, we don't like it and ignore it, but the dog doesn't care about our cold eyes. It is taken care of by its mother. It eats hard every day, spreading happiness, and finally grows into a fat and tall mangy dog.
By the way, there are some white rabbits in the corner of the yard. A new mother. Five newborn rabbits, their eyes closed, all red, naked and hairless, are like ugly little mice. Their bodies were covered with hairs pulled from their bodies by their mother rabbit, but her mother sewed them a small quilt. Three times a day, mother feeds rabbits to mother rabbits. When they are full, let them bask in the sun, then cover them with a quilt and carry them into the house. Be careful, the little rabbit was seen by the little white dog at home and ate one. Mother was furious, and with a stick in her hand, she drove the dog to the rabbit and shouted, "Do you still eat?" This can also be eaten! I'll kill you next time. "A stick hit the ground next to the dog. The puppy ran away with a whoosh.
A yard full of chickens, ducks, cats, dogs and rabbits, so lively. If my daughter comes again, it will be a chicken flying and a dog jumping, not quiet. She kissed the cat, hugged the cat and kicked the dog all over the yard; She will pull weeds to feed rabbits and drive ducks to the henhouse at the same time. I was so upset that I couldn't help asking my mother, didn't she hate feeding these things when she was a child, and why she feeds so much now.
Mother said, "It was not easy to support you when you were young. You couldn't afford anything else. Now that you are old and gone, I am also idle. "
Suddenly realized that we are just a group of kittens or puppies raised by our mother. When I grew up, I was taken away by others or didn't want to stay at home and go out alone. Finally, my mother was left alone. She has a lot of time, she can talk to us softly, she can also look at us gently and touch us, but there is no one around. So she had a lot of loneliness and loneliness, so she began to raise those small animals, fresh and sick; Beautiful, ugly; As long as it is life, she is used to great patience and love.
Finally, I understand the meaning of the sentence "If there is love in the sky, it will be old". It turns out that emotions, such as life, will grow old slowly. Those emotions that are too late to express and release because of the rush of time and the heavy life in youth, and those that have been suppressed for a lifetime, will become more and more profound, more mellow and more delicate and gentle in old age.
Hate is an extreme emotion. When people are treated by what they think is offensive or harmful, especially when they are unprepared, they will inevitably have an emotion, especially those who will never wake up and thus lack restraint, blind self-confidence and conceit, and can't stand a little injustice. Whenever this time, such an emotion will become more and more intense and accumulate into an extreme emotion-hate.
A person with hatred in his heart, if he has certain financial resources or power, usually he will take revenge immediately, especially the hatred born of disillusionment of desire, which will make him crazy a hundred times! And those who have neither wealth nor power will bury this hatred in their hearts to find or wait for an opportunity to answer blows with blows!
However, no matter how to fight back, it will not bring any joy of victory to the implementers! Because hatred is like a bad cell, with the implementation of the executor's revenge plan, this bad cell is constantly gaining nutrients and gradually growing into a cancer that will eventually erode the executor's mind! Therefore, from the moment of hatred in his heart, his heart can no longer be calm! Therefore, hate is not the best choice to solve the problem!
I encountered such a thing when I was in a technical school. I seem to have a problem, that is, I always like to address people around me according to my own preferences. Maybe it's because those names are often between nicknames and nicknames, and people I call them are happy to accept them. Over time, those titles were gradually borrowed by others, so I was indulged to be more arbitrary. I remember that the Sino-Japanese War was going on at that time, and there was a title of "adult" in it. Perhaps it is because the majesty of those adults is somewhat similar to that of our class teacher, so I unconsciously associate the word "adult" with our class teacher. Our class teacher's surname is Xiong, and I also call her "Xiong's adult" in private. Gradually, more and more students began to address the head teacher Xiong Daren privately. It's easy to get used to nature. Who cares about natural things? I didn't even realize that my behavior was disrespectful to the teacher! Until one day, I was suddenly called to her by the head teacher. The class teacher suppressed her anger and seriously asked me why I gave her a nickname. Nicknames have always been derogatory in my heart, but I never think the word "adult" is derogatory! So after being asked by the class teacher, I didn't return to my mind for a while. The head teacher continued to ask her why she was called Lord Xiong. I suddenly realized. Because of the sudden incident, I couldn't find a word to answer at all, so I had to bow my head and let the class teacher let go.
Since I was a student, I never remember being criticized by the teacher, let alone being scolded by the head teacher. The depressed mood at that time was really speechless. I was soon told by my classmates that the hail I got should be attributed to an educated youth senior, who went to the class teacher to take credit for herself. Although this senior is my technical school classmate, her brother is my junior high school classmate, so I have always had a good relationship with her since we met at school. I had no idea that she would come here. I'm so angry! I hate her so much that I wish she would disappear from the earth at once-fortunately, I didn't have that ability at that time! I thought I would always hate her-if it didn't happen later!
I once mentioned in "Lucky Woman" that most of my classmates in technical schools are educated youth brothers and sisters, much older than our recent high school graduates. Therefore, although we are still young, they are all old enough to talk about marriage. Senior educated youth is actually a very enthusiastic person. Although she studies hard because she has lost books for many years, she is still willing to help her deskmate, an educated youth friend who has a more headache in her studies. Not only that, she also takes care of her life, such as helping to mend clothes. Perhaps at their age, such a move will inevitably arouse people's speculation. As a result, the class teacher specially entrusted by the mother who took the family seriously quickly reported this situation. This is really terrible. The senior mother flew into a rage and insisted that the senior say "one, two, three" The seniors were forced to be anxious. In a rage, they simply pretended to sing and began to really associate with the educated youth.
However, love is not produced by anger! With the progress of communication, the senior felt more and more out of place with her, so she proposed to break up. Breaking up is not as easy as holding hands. Brother Xue's father is an old worker of My Factory, so several children under his knee have entered My Factory one after another, which is a bit fierce compared with their senior sisters in other units. Therefore, the breakup was not only rejected by Brother Xue, but also led to the siege and shelling of Brother Xue's brothers and sisters. Xue Jie offended her mother by holding hands casually, and at this time she could not get the support of her family. Really a little desperate.
I never knew I had such strong female thoughts. The news that my senior was in a difficult situation eliminated my hatred for her without a trace. My classmates and I immediately took action to support my senior sister. With everyone's support, the senior finally stuck to the end-liberated herself from the quagmire of impulse.
Since that incident, although unpleasant things have happened to me from time to time in the following days, even if I have been greatly wronged, even if I have a huge resentment that can't be solved for a while, it seems that hatred can no longer be generated!
Many years have passed, and I have been wondering why the hatred that I thought would last for a long time disappeared so quickly and thoroughly. Compared with forgiveness, which is more powerful? On the surface, hate seems to be more powerful, but it is more destructive-destructive to people's hearts! Because when we hate, our hearts will get narrower and narrower and our eyes will get shorter and shorter. Therefore, when we hate, our hearts are unhappy! However, understanding will promote us to open our minds and see further, so understanding will revive our hearts! Therefore, for people, a revived mind is more beneficial, more active and more enterprising than a destroyed mind!
Although we can't guarantee happiness every day, we can shorten the unhappy time! No matter what happens, if we can be sober, restrained, confident, empathetic and reverse-thinking, maybe we can stand on our own feet, open our hearts, look around, be open-minded, let hatred disappear and keep grudges away.