Miss you is always two words.
Hanako, why is there always a power outage tonight? The power went out, so I opened the door and went to the landlord's small yard. Late autumn, a little cold, I resolutely put the day and night in my heart.
Heart, there is no moon and sea, and there are no stars flashing. It's the breeze blowing quietly. The night was quiet, and some exploration partners played harmonicas. The tune played is Night on the Grassland, which is the favorite tune of our expedition. So, I hummed along.
How peaceful the beautiful night is. Only my piano is left on the grassland. I want to write a letter to a girl far away. Unfortunately, there is no postman to convey my feelings.
The night is like a mystery, the waves are moving invisibly, and the fluctuating night image is waiting for me. Is it the urgency of waiting, the excitement of calling, or the wonderful moment of shooting stars?
Hanako, I suddenly wanted to write a poem, so I recorded my poem in a small village by the river, in the night sky of a small courtyard.
Miss you, always two words, clinging to the dawn of waking up every day, and always the freshness of the sun, chanting the same, holding the moon and hanging the stars;
Missing you, whether you remember that paragraph or not, is a lingering scene. Miniature shakes your head when you get up and brush your teeth. Miniature withers in the early winter after spring flowers bloom.
I miss you, my eyes are always hanging on the window lattice, and my overflowing sadness is held up by the maple trees in the sky. Sour and sour memories are sweet in Gui Xiang, and the light and shadow reflect my most beautiful wanton sadness and infatuation with you.
Hanako, now I'm going to copy the poem into the autumn wind and let the never-ending radio waves pass to you.
You will always be my sunshine in the morning.
Hanako, I got up early today. I want to go up the mountain to explore the work area. When I opened the doors and windows, the surprise stopped in the eyes of Chaoyang, and the freshness was exposed on the palm of bamboo.
Gui Xiang, the small courtyard of the landlord, is floating in the sky with high clouds and light blue, floating on the ancient maple tree at the entrance of the village, just like your face like a sunrise.
Suddenly, there was the sound of a wooden stick knocking, so I imagined it was you, your happy hand scrubbing yesterday's clothes by the river. I stood at the window, the Maple Shadow River gurgled, and my thoughts and soul drifted away.
I am quiet, quiet, quiet in a wild villa. In the morning, I can't help being lonely in the Woods. It's a small wind's propaganda, neither too slow nor too slow. Birds hiding behind dense leaves are singing and holding up the smoke from the village house.
Is that you? You put the morning glow on your face, you tie the soft hair behind your head, you wriggle the figure of autumn rhyme, and you hang your clothes in the sky. Looking at you, imagining you, my thoughts are drying and spreading with your hands.
Hehe, your joyful hand slaps the drying clothes, just like slapping my chest, which is deep and meaningful.
Hanako, let me gently tell you that I don't need to be with you. Because, you will always be my sunshine in the morning.
Cinnamon will always float in your ear.
Hanako, in autumn, I always look back on some details of us and let happiness stay in the familiar outline again.
Therefore, under the background of autumn, I imagine that the edge of the lotus leaf is broken, which represents the change of seasons. The gorgeous lotus flower represents your freshness and stillness, and then the sweet-scented osmanthus on the branches represents the fragrance of your laughter, and the fallen leaves blown by the wind represent the plucking and touching of the strings.
I remember it was warm that autumn. We are exploring the practice area. When the last lotus flower in the village pond was in full bloom, your shy face, like the breeze in early autumn, said goodbye to me on the lotus leaf.
Later, I used the power of a whole train to transfer you to me. The path is continuous and the lake is clear. Picking a sweet-scented osmanthus leaf and putting it in your mouth, a beautiful feeling slipped from the tip of your tongue, and a series of trembling syllables floated into the air, comfortable and cheerful.
You said that you like the faint sweetness of osmanthus, and the most tender thing on that branch is your crisp laughter? Your laughter is like silver touching silver, and you have been going through the clouds to see Chang 'e in the Moon Palace.
Today, Gui Xiang is still the same, and the fallen leaves are like sliding notes, touching the heartstrings in my dormant blood. How are you? Does your daughter study well? Acacia, stronger than wine, burned the grass on the roadside.
I can't bear to pick up sweet-scented osmanthus and harvest Gui Xiang blown by the wind, just as I can't bear to touch your beautiful face and your flowing long hair.
Autumn moon is like water. I'll wait. I hope a meteor can slip by again, and pray for you that Gui Xiang will float in your ear forever.
The most romantic thing
Hanako, tell you, the love letter I wrote in autumn (1) was recommended to the National Prose Competition and won the prize. Obviously, our love also touched the qualified judges of the competition. You must be very happy.
Now I walk in the gap of words every day, feeling the happy picture you gave me little by little. Sometimes I think of you at night, and endless loneliness is like a net, surrounded by it bit by bit until I drown myself.
I'll miss you forever! Miss you, stick to it all your life, depend on each other as one, and recall eternity. Our love was an eternal scene memory; That infinite yearning and longing is our eternal affection.
Miss you, dreams become the epitome of love; Miss you, outside my brain, in the mature late autumn, or now in the early winter window lattice.
Miss you, let my thoughts wander around, in an instant, it hurts, and I remember it until dawn.
Miss you, drunk for a moment; Miss you, look at each other, has become our most beautiful sadness; Miss you, so I silently wrote down my dream of flying. ......
This is not a dream. It was a summer afternoon. My family went to visit the wildlife park. You said this place was too big. Only trees, no animals. Most of them are artificial. What about the wild ones? Then he dragged me to sit on the stone bench under the tree. At this time, my daughter took a photo of us, and I said yes, this photo will be rated as the most romantic thing.
Miss you and grow old with you. The most childish story has no ending, the happiest love has no words, and the most romantic thing is to grow old with you.
I dreamed of spring in autumn.
Hanako, last night was unusual. I had a dream. I dreamed of spring in autumn.
A small river is pulling, white clouds are walking in the water, and birds are kissing the river with their lips. There is also a bamboo forest, stroking the fish and whispering. Only Xiaofeng can read this quiet secret.
In the village where the clouds are faintly visible, the warmth of home floats in the smoke. Cooking smoke, drawn from Gu Xiang, must be a long lilac-like melancholy. However, it is spring now, and the eyes of the river are bright with the oblique willow scissors.
You sit on the boat and smile, and I gently paddle and push the shore. The most romantic thing is that you use a small bamboo as a mast, and I take off my little white coat and sail. You wrote the pain of growing old together on my bare chest with a shower head.
Hanako, this dream is unusual! I always fantasized about our meeting, so I had the hope of dreaming of a river and a boat. Tonight, I still sit at the window, and the moonlight is as deep as the tune of erhu.
In the distance, the moonlight sits on the stone peak. Why are you silent Oh, waiting is missing, silence is classic. Tonight, I want to pick up the moon shadow that falls on the ground and build a boat that belongs to us, carrying the dreams and pains of life and turning it into lightness.
Hanako, in your dream tonight, are you also looking forward to sailing with us again?
Just slowly twitch your harvest at home.
Hanako, the weather is good today. I looked up at the sky and suddenly felt depressed. If you are in a good mood, look at the white clouds, like a white crane to be released. It must be you, gentle and pure white, all in my eyes. ......
The cold wind blows azaleas to refresh the animals for next year's bonus; The seeds of morning glory, the story must be sprouting, how to strive to create new heights next year.
As for me, I just use the pen you gave me to write poems that only you can understand. That pen sticks to your memory like a spider web, so that you won't get lost and find your way back in the lost years.
But I promise, even if snow covers the wheat fields and roads, you won't feel helpless with me. Our love is as pure as the white clouds in autumn, and that endless yearning is always a song we can't sing.
I often think that happiness is relative, while love is absolute and beautiful, just like us. However, life without love is sad. Love is eternal happiness. Do you think so?
The road goes on, and life is sweet because of love. Life is colorful because of this. Like a breeze blowing dew, the bright moon adorns the starry sky, and you moisten every sunrise and sunset like a wonderful melody.
I seal up your advantages with my heart, and I dilute your shortcomings with poetry. Think of our tacit understanding, we are no longer confused, everything is given to osmanthus branches, and a little bit of sweetness floats away.
I look through our past every day, always drawing I miss you in my dream. My heart is pure as silk, and I miss you layer after layer. You hold the end of the silk so that you can twitch slowly and harvest at home.
I thought of you at first sight.
Hanako, there is a vine here. I can't name it. It is straight, thin and long, and it can be rolled at will in the mountains, but it is edible and sweet. I'll call it sweet vine.
Now, I'll give you a sweet vine for you to savor in your mouth, let you talk about your sweetness, and let me feel the fragrance of your tongue.
Xiangteng is a poem by Xu Zhimo. The poem Annala is the gentleness of bowing her head/like a lotus flower. The shyness of the cool wind can't be overcome/Say treasure, say treasure/that treasure contains sweet sorrow/-Poem Annala! I chew sweet, let you chew sweet.
Poetry is small and exquisite, and every word is vivid, showing a feminine scene. Farewell to a young girl, see white inside deeply red, black hair drooping, smiling and small mouth, tentatively raised her eyelids, and flew low again. It is the beauty of this moment that is captured by the author and condensed.
How can I get the most words? Just freeze the girl's shy expression on the paper. What about this girl? It's water hibiscus, it's water hibiscus that can't bear the cool wind. In this way, tenderness and shyness came to my face.
Is it a girl's whisper or a farewell voice between men and women to cherish repeatedly? Girls are more gentle and beautiful by restraining their separate passion and shortness of breath; Sweet sadness can't exhaust the poet's countless emotions.
Poetry is simple, but beautiful. A soft, a real; A kind of elegance, a kind of obscurity. Poetic eyes should be sweet sadness. Because beauty is in the contradiction between sweetness and sadness, the sound of waves that make people taste the world and human feelings remains the same.
Shian Nora, a poem, is a Japanese transliteration of goodbye, which is both willow and cry. The hidden poetic theme, I think, is that since time flies and beauty is fleeting, why don't we grasp the beauty and cherish every bit?
Open doors and windows, streams stretch mountain shadows, and fields stretch imagination. The wild chrysanthemums on the hillside are in full bloom, and the white, gold and purple blue in the morning are dazzling. In this way, the wild chrysanthemums in Shan Ye are leisurely and fragrant, and put my feelings on your tongue.
Reading poetry reminds me of the first time I met you. Your shyness of bowing down is imprinted in my heart, reaching to the bottom of my heart and fresh in my memory.
It's all your eyes.
Hanako, I woke up at two o'clock this morning, because all the thoughts of wandering and dreaming last night were your eyes. For example, in the starry morning, even the cold of the morning breeze didn't close your eyes.
Missing is like a white sky hanging at dawn. It hurts to be stuck in your heart by a sewing needle when you are insomnia.
So, I tied my dream to the curtain of the night with a sewing needle for insomnia, gorgeous sadness and gentle sadness. Tears disappeared in the dark night, leaving only thoughts, flashing on the morning breeze and the star face.
My diary is turning, and the pages are stepping on the beat of the wind, creeping into your dreams and sticking to your heart.
Hanako, such a night was washed away by my thoughts, washed away the unpleasantness of the past, but could not wash away our joy together, leaving us fresh and beautiful.
I took a deep breath, and the silence of the night made me particularly eager for the sun to come out, illuminate the small window, illuminate the homesick tree, see the bamboo still, and kiss the osmanthus.
At this time, the language above my language, in the swaying sunshine, calmly overflowed the golden yellow of chrysanthemum.
I put a piece of tea in my mouth.
Hanako, I put a piece of tea in my mouth, biting my teeth gently, biting the autumn wind and not coming in winter, biting the clock on the wall and not running water.
Sometimes, we forget many things, even forget that we have many fruits like grapes, that is, our simple days and the tacit understanding of smiling at each other. We can't forget that I took you to my hometown to get married. Flying snowflakes are all white, light and fairy-tale stories. You are wearing the red cotton-padded jacket I mailed from Shanghai, and your face is red. Where is happiness? Happiness is in the eyes when we first met.
I will continue to live in the small mountain village here this autumn, and I will continue to increase the exploration area because new mine anomalies have been discovered here.
There are birds chirping, which is particularly beautiful. Why do birds sing at night? Oh, it's from TV. I opened the curtains and let the loneliness of the world fly into the night sky.
I face a steaming cup of tea and stare at the delicate leaves and green blood in the cup, just like my beautiful thoughts.
After a sip, some poems began to fluctuate in my body. I put another piece of tea in my mouth, and I bit your fragrance gently, and a feeling rose in me.
There is a stretching force that makes you progress.
Hanako, it's night. I'm writing to you by the dim light of the village.
Tell you a good news, the No.88 drilling rig finally saw the ore after drilling 588 meters, which was designed according to the geophysical data provided by us. This year's work finally came to fruition as expected.
Away from the sky, only the rig lights shine with wisdom. The moon outside the window, through the cracks in the leaves, casts autumn eyes on the earth. The wind is cool, but it is blowing from the valley, with the fragrance of wild chrysanthemum and osmanthus.
I went out to explore today and met a river at the foot of the mountain. I followed the winding path to the river. Being close to clear water is like being close to your smile. A beautiful story is drunk in my eyes.
That was many years ago. No, it seems to be yesterday. The Moon River flows slowly, slowly to the blood vessels of our youth, to our passionate hearts, and to the whispers when we meet and talk. On that day, countless colorful auras rose before our eyes.
At that time, the moon-shaped mountain looked from a distance and witnessed our enthusiasm; The moonlight shines brightly on the fields, making our hearts spotless; The moon-shaped river caresses our hot faces with moonlight.
There are few stars under the moon, and our artistic conception grows by the river. I scooped up the crystal dew from the grass leaves and moistened our eager lips.
Missing, like the autumn wind blowing through the maple leaves, is as crazy as red, and the details of those past possessions become extremely clear, as if at your fingertips. Now, we are not young and immature on the surface, but love will always be as rich as VAT.
I deeply breathe the fresh air in the mountains and think of you and the Moon River in the past. Sweetness is coming up, my bones and muscles are gurgling, and there is a stretching force to be improved.
Finally, a ferry came in expectation and a love letter was held high in the air.