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May Jiangnan Yan Yu desert, porch before the next step under the spring lock. Come out of the day with the memory of the empty, small window to listen to the rain dream of the wind.

Yesterday evening hi hi meet, a fragrance to stay traces. Obsessed with resentment and grievances, Sisi really cut the throat.

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The passing of the years in the memories like chewing green fruit, there will always be Sishi astringent taste to climb up the heart, in the summer moon when the summer night with the sound of insects, quietly brushing the heart of the lake, rippling ripples, slowly Swing open.

"Autumn leaves of autumn, thousands of miles to read the guest. Feiyun over, Guihong no letter, where to send the book. Tears of the ball is not endless, on the ink spin. Deep, red note is colorless.

Look, who love that lake misty rain provoke red? Listen to a bamboo flute yesterday suddenly as long as the wind; pity, bury the hills floating flowers drift hate long; Xi, stranger Road, Spring River flowing around to eliminate eyebrows heart?

Through the years of things, and then by the years of things, the past is difficult to make the round; this person, more people here today, today people off the return.

"Willow wiped out the flowers, by asking pedestrians do not return." Willow color green, sticks soft, thousands of tiles, fit the world from the discoverer, Road from the infinite hidden resentment and Acacia. "I go to carry on, willow Yiyi." Thousands of turn back to the melancholy of what is the soul of the ileum? When the history of the clouds finally dissipated in the river of time, willow Yiyi dusk, but the reasons for the docking?

"One day to see Changan flowers, thousands of sails do not do." Tears of the eye to do one after another broken hope. Is the Iraqis present? Riverside turn and turn the shade. Is the Iraqis safe? Daisy flowers are fresh and new. Fufeng listen to the wind language, breeze without news; Wang Guanhonghong everywhere, Guihong no letter. At this point this scene, do not hate flying no fixed, but hate the West Park, the old land is difficult to indiscriminate old branches.

That green lush green willow, and Acacia looked painful struggle entangled together, they achieved a kind of incomplete and tough beauty, even if the heavy door is still locked, still revealing the curtain, from the lonely strings and flute Tube in the faint rise, turned into the sunset floor, the more chaos of the boudoir and cold moon window full of tears to tears. And Yang sash curl, catkins long, the slightest strands of strands, will be away from the infinite meaning.

"Liu Huafei, Ping Ye poly, plum yellow when the rain." Misty Margaret, water Mongolia, smoke waves, Liu Si wrapped around the breeze, wrinkled waves, distant view, hate water long. A few words of the deep spots of the mark, the weather is difficult to sell the snow, several desolate desolate, a few wipes Acacia leisure worry, a few sets of eyebrows of the consumer dark, a few missed fleeting, despite the time barren to the grass luxuriant.

No intention to tidy up all kinds of thoughts, no effort to solve the dusty thousands of complex. When everything has become a remembrance, why should harder to find, China and more water more than regret, years of songs since the treasure. Yellowed calendar, mottled, when to be abandoned in a corner, never remember, let ink marks blocked in the dust of time.

Night sleep, before the dust of the past trance, such as clouds; love hard to cut, from the singing night Fei Xu charming eyes; drunk flowers, tears on the flowers lonely wrapped around the resentment.

Only hate the spring without seeking, even if the flowers countless, but also where to find Begonia still?

Wind crimson shadow shadow shiny, far from the river still wandering.

Tolerance of the magpie bridge is wrong, Yingying a water in vain.