Missing, sprinkling in the autumn night wind

When is the bright moon? Ask the sky about the wine. I don’t know the palace in the sky. What year is it today… whose poem is this? Raise a glass and one staggered in the deep moonlight to unstrained liquor sad songs? Whose feeling is this? The three people in the shadow under the moon still need the loneliness and cold in the palace for thousands of miles? Whose sentence is this? The words moisten your heart and the words are full of emotion, which will not outline how beautiful it is. I only hope that the missing of the wood can be gently scattered in front of your screen. Time is fleeting, with thousands of thoughts, wrapped in a thick lovesickness, scattered along the horizon with a wisp of autumn wind, and scattered in every world covered by moonlight. Autumn is doomed to be a tune full of sadness and missing. The Moon is doomed to not change the circle and lack it. The piece was yellow leaves. Why on earth did it fall down in the night of wax and wane? With some dry and hot wind, it slowly went from birth to death, fell from green to dry, and finally buried under the loess. Lonely Patient, why on earth walking in the downtown where people come and go, can’t help the quiet of the lonely room, or who guides me to find it with the wind of missing? At this time, whose lights are dim and whose black lights are miserable at this time. At this time, who is holding thousands of lights in front of the window of the beauty, who is holding the lonely shadow and missing the beauty in the distance under this round of full moon. I can’t see it. Wu Gang’s Moon Palace waved and cut down the ice trees that kept falling in love thousands of years ago; I can’t hear anyone holding the ice white bunny dressing table shouting the name that has never been tired of shouting for thousands of years; I can’t smell it, the taste of home in front of the table in my hometown far away. But at this time, I had no choice but to take the shadow of the moon to send me together. Loneliness is not afraid, what is afraid is that one day the shadow does not want to follow himself. Tonight, the moon is very round, like the poem I read when I was a child, xiaochi didn’t know the moon and called white plate. The big side white plate hung in the sky where no stars or dark clouds were found, but I was not a small pool. After a long sigh, I could no longer be as carefree as I was when I was a child. After a month of chanting poetry and singing, it can no longer be changed back to the dream of being so carefree. Previously, I loved a word very much, and there was a sentence in the word: I was afraid of breaking my intestines when I woke up. I can imagine this kind of sadness, and I can also feel this kind of helplessness when I wake up from wine. Who said another sentence to raise a glass to relieve sorrow and worry more. It seems that the ancients naturally saw much more sadness and sorrow than I did. Night, very long, every minute and every second, like hourglass flow; Missing, very full, full of heart, to stay until the osmanthus season will be given to you. Zi xiaozuo was on the evening of September 20, 2013!

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