Just as every drop of wine can't get back to the original grapes, I can't go back to my youth.
A season of mountains and rivers, a spring, a journey of joy and joy.
Before the fog cleared, you set up a small boat and swayed slowly in the south of the Yangtze River.
I will boil the winter snow for a while, fold the flowers and grass, and make the night for you.
Last year, the old snow was cooked and the guests were stayed, and the new willow temporarily borrowed the three-point color in the cup.
Life is everywhere, the spring rain and apricot blossoms fall sharply, and the carriages and horses spring mountains walk slowly.
I want to live in the world, but I have no place at all; Look at all kinds of red and purple, and turn into gray after the eyes.
The world is gentle, but the fragrant willows shake and dye the fragrance of flowers, and the acacia cicadas sing into the deep alleys.
Autumn comes and goes, who pities the wind and lotus in the courtyard, Shaohua is white-headed, but there is a floating life.
Between the eyebrows, the inlaid red dust is far away, drink a cup of clear coolness, and listen to the wind.
Twisting lightly and slowly, Lin Hua still thanked the spring breeze; In the middle of the night, Shaohua clearly made a mistake and complained.
The old streets and alleys, with white walls and tiles, are half the shore and half the river, there is water in the river, and there are people on the bank.