2014年05月24日
The look in your eyes
By chance, like the Ceng Houyi chime notes come in a throng whirling opened West Lake makeup water, water from the day to go, layer upon layer infiltration of cold green leaf, elongated shadow as well as my withered heart.
Looking eyes, you are here, elegant as Jane Austen. Maybe just the tip of the iceberg, but people Thoughts thronged one's mind., named Sima Xiangru wrote, "Nagato Fu below." thousands and thousands of words, as edge with the blue Heiwa was paved a sparsely thin walls for your tears asking flower, foot ring, take over the railings.
Daiyu funeral flower spirit, vulgar I already forget that poem text, but can feel your eyes and fit. I only remember her reflection, the dream into the lotus Pu is embedded with the be reduced to fragments of the coldest month, placid, drift with the tide, like to recast the bronze mirrors with half of the yellow, then put half the sadness, can let a pure and noble character on lightly dancing, diffuse account into war, foggy, pearl and jade.
I have seen many eyes, only your memorable, as the evening, paddle partly hidden and partly visible in the Qinhuai River sound and light to the Six Dynasties gold powder called four walls empty Ming birds, extremely elegant and valuable.
A faint smile on one's face you in that look in the eyes,, Yizhenyihuan, make me addicted to vegetation and think of forest, addicted to drip and Si Wang, addicted to the stars and think of the universe.
Are you laughing at? Smile, White clouds change into grey dogs., time to throw people, how many feelings, can experience the test of time? Those feelings, really worth it? But looking back, it is sprinkled incense scraps in the long history, in the dead of night, floating in the water and who, on the road, each a fine story, "the fallen petal independently, conduct". Of course I thought of Eileen Chang, the red and the white rose, willing to do the red rose, willing to go when the mistress to Wang Jingwei government official Hu Lancheng, love so hell-bent, eventually Hu Lancheng with a pot of tea Kung Fu will forget her, let her in the dust slowly withering. Love, is also easy to make people blind.
You don't laugh? Because sometimes the reality is very difficult to make people laugh. But the best is to always keep smiling, like Lin Whei-yin's "you are the world April day", "the light, it hired Ting, you are the crown, bright flowers you wear, you are naive, solemn, you are a full moon night".
No magical angel, a nightingale fresh drips tulip loud and chaotic unknown sky, you are looking at me? You are the one of the four archangels, Gabriel, the sage of speech listening to God, the revelation of the secret, the dead body resurrection. Is an occasional glimpse can still see remaining?
I know that how much is romantic, you might just look at the scenery, "qiaoxiaoqianxi, eyes hope Xi", like a jade hairpin silent and soundless romantic themes to the depths of the Pinghu, started up a puddle gulls. But I still have a glimmer of hope, in the hundreds of millions of my smile, I cry, I smile, I cry, I, is so Shendu, hesitate, light pouring in gorgeous webs involve transverse oblique Shuying like floating heart cold. I hope you can see my life, in the life, the way across the sea, like all over the universe of 1,000,000,000 universes after suddenly look back, in the hands of Burns, is a red rose; exile, Xu Zhimo at the foot of a deep river Arno; slack, "the book of songs" is the title page of a soft Jian jia.
Now remember, still be visible before the eyes. That look in the eyes of you, what is the nature of the woman? An hand in a velvet glove, or just soft and of aid? A pair of eyes, a face, you can ogle, can also self pity, fleeting, marshes, a red sandalwood folding fans, a pair of ginseng flower silver chopsticks, and then recalled served in cloisonne turn heart bottle go with the wind, you belong to flourishing, evergreen the four seasons. You are a British aestheticism poet very pretty and charming wisteria, warm with a little tenderness, dropping time of grass covered with branches and leaves, release, and, in the sunlight and moonlight shining, add radiance and beauty to each other prison waterfalls, water splash splash.
Sometimes think, as you will actually look, character is similar to mine? So we really hit it off. Restless and rebellious, also be gifted, let us to carry the world before one, a hand tied to heaven servant, a hand driving hell carriage, boundless without end.
Looking eyes, you are here, elegant as Jane Austen. Maybe just the tip of the iceberg, but people Thoughts thronged one's mind., named Sima Xiangru wrote, "Nagato Fu below." thousands and thousands of words, as edge with the blue Heiwa was paved a sparsely thin walls for your tears asking flower, foot ring, take over the railings.
Daiyu funeral flower spirit, vulgar I already forget that poem text, but can feel your eyes and fit. I only remember her reflection, the dream into the lotus Pu is embedded with the be reduced to fragments of the coldest month, placid, drift with the tide, like to recast the bronze mirrors with half of the yellow, then put half the sadness, can let a pure and noble character on lightly dancing, diffuse account into war, foggy, pearl and jade.
I have seen many eyes, only your memorable, as the evening, paddle partly hidden and partly visible in the Qinhuai River sound and light to the Six Dynasties gold powder called four walls empty Ming birds, extremely elegant and valuable.
A faint smile on one's face you in that look in the eyes,, Yizhenyihuan, make me addicted to vegetation and think of forest, addicted to drip and Si Wang, addicted to the stars and think of the universe.
Are you laughing at? Smile, White clouds change into grey dogs., time to throw people, how many feelings, can experience the test of time? Those feelings, really worth it? But looking back, it is sprinkled incense scraps in the long history, in the dead of night, floating in the water and who, on the road, each a fine story, "the fallen petal independently, conduct". Of course I thought of Eileen Chang, the red and the white rose, willing to do the red rose, willing to go when the mistress to Wang Jingwei government official Hu Lancheng, love so hell-bent, eventually Hu Lancheng with a pot of tea Kung Fu will forget her, let her in the dust slowly withering. Love, is also easy to make people blind.
You don't laugh? Because sometimes the reality is very difficult to make people laugh. But the best is to always keep smiling, like Lin Whei-yin's "you are the world April day", "the light, it hired Ting, you are the crown, bright flowers you wear, you are naive, solemn, you are a full moon night".
No magical angel, a nightingale fresh drips tulip loud and chaotic unknown sky, you are looking at me? You are the one of the four archangels, Gabriel, the sage of speech listening to God, the revelation of the secret, the dead body resurrection. Is an occasional glimpse can still see remaining?
I know that how much is romantic, you might just look at the scenery, "qiaoxiaoqianxi, eyes hope Xi", like a jade hairpin silent and soundless romantic themes to the depths of the Pinghu, started up a puddle gulls. But I still have a glimmer of hope, in the hundreds of millions of my smile, I cry, I smile, I cry, I, is so Shendu, hesitate, light pouring in gorgeous webs involve transverse oblique Shuying like floating heart cold. I hope you can see my life, in the life, the way across the sea, like all over the universe of 1,000,000,000 universes after suddenly look back, in the hands of Burns, is a red rose; exile, Xu Zhimo at the foot of a deep river Arno; slack, "the book of songs" is the title page of a soft Jian jia.
Now remember, still be visible before the eyes. That look in the eyes of you, what is the nature of the woman? An hand in a velvet glove, or just soft and of aid? A pair of eyes, a face, you can ogle, can also self pity, fleeting, marshes, a red sandalwood folding fans, a pair of ginseng flower silver chopsticks, and then recalled served in cloisonne turn heart bottle go with the wind, you belong to flourishing, evergreen the four seasons. You are a British aestheticism poet very pretty and charming wisteria, warm with a little tenderness, dropping time of grass covered with branches and leaves, release, and, in the sunlight and moonlight shining, add radiance and beauty to each other prison waterfalls, water splash splash.
Sometimes think, as you will actually look, character is similar to mine? So we really hit it off. Restless and rebellious, also be gifted, let us to carry the world before one, a hand tied to heaven servant, a hand driving hell carriage, boundless without end.
Posted by sumptuous at
13:02
│Article writing
2014年05月16日
Wrote wrote sad, pain
Once had innumerable time want to cry, but is not willing to let others see, so are countless tears buried. Maybe it is because of this, gradually will not cry. ¬
Once in the diary wrote: "today is good wind, wind the leaves, also blew my mind. Since then, my heart was smug, smug cold. Also do not know to who, always empty thoughts. Pale and looked up, once again, looking at the sky, only to find the stars in tears for me. Don't know Is it right? Because they are too sad, always didn't laugh, do not want to say a word, just trying to write, until you forget that he is still alive, why some people always so happy, free to let youth passing so, not to fight, do not feel bad, don't grasp. No more thought to be so sad, and tears, perhaps he has forgotten the tears!" ¬
Remember a year, almost is my birthday. On that day, our family of Gardenia opened. I looked at it began to hurt, it will be in tears. Because that day I had a birthday, I only remember. ¬ looked at the gardenias, I will be comforted, because it and I like, very lonely. Perhaps we should comfort each other, each other laugh at each other, left out. ¬
Memories gone like a hurt people, appeared again and again in front of you, and then numerous wound torn to prove myself to you once blood flow. Memory is like the water in the palm down, whether you spread out or hold, it is always from the fingers, every little bit, flowing clean. ¬
When I was alone, I always feel lonely. If the change was before, I will be in my heart tears. And now I finally understand, fell dejected and can't change what, can only rely on themselves to strive for. ¬
Every night and give yourself some extreme terror "ghost story", scare yourself. Consciously envision some horrifying pictures, try to make yourself cry in the dark. A drop of a drop of tears, I know it's not -- it is sweat. I didn't cry, but the smile, laugh so terrifying --. ¬
I've never had to be afraid of death, I always calm in the face of death. I do not know what is not God incarnate. What is life like, die also fear. Always have to face the dark. ¬
A lot of things are not willing to let others know, know only one person, a person cry, a person smile, a person excited, one's own secret. Because the past is all about his. ¬
The midnight bell sounded again. The heart is still quiet. ¬
The black house was black gas cloud, the whole room filled with a mysterious atmosphere, thin a wisp of smoke purple came from the window. The shadow always dancing on the wall, violet lamp beside the Ru Xia general beautiful and red or photosynthetic or tease. ¬
Black Wu shadow of loneliness and fell heavily to the ground. Not what is black. Feel as if the house like the shadow of a dark, heavy. All the uneven pressure in the bottom of my heart, let it die. ¬
Posted by sumptuous at
19:38
│Article writing
