The glitz in the world, the fragrance in memory, where is the fragrance; Where did the old ferry in memory disappear?
That year, the bridge was broken by snow, and she held an oil-paper umbrella on the other side. Her dyed hair became her most beautiful hair accessory. I stood by the old ferry, bent down and sat down to flick the strings, danced sleeves and brushed my shirt, played a song and dance, and the snow fell on the ferry, drawing a picture of snow dance. She just quietly returned the favor.
The flowing water under the broken bridge, a stroke in the floating life, painted all the feelings. The blood-stained sunset reflects the most beautiful appearance of snowflakes; At the beginning of the cold month, the bright cold light painted her with beautiful makeup. Holding an oil-paper umbrella, her eyes looked out, and the stars in the sky were boundless. I stared at the pupil and saw her mouth slightly rising. Qin Mian rang the doorbell several times, but she was still on the other side, listening to the music with her eyes closed.
How many years have passed since the rhyme of fingertips was tangled. Which finger fell off? When she got up, my beautiful image was slightly bent, and I just smiled slightly. Her back disappeared in the midnight wind, and I finally left with my piano. The cold wind at the ferry is biting.
Tomorrow, the snow will float, covering both sides of the broken bridge and ferry. The other shore is fragrant and familiar. Oil-paper umbrella, wearing a plain clothes, dancing with the wind, beamed at me. I was still sitting by the ferry, bending over to play the piano, and she sat down to enjoy it quietly. Her paper umbrella leans back slightly, just revealing her face. Her shallow eyes, like willow eyebrows, tell an unspeakable melancholy.
I played the piano several times and bathed in the starlight for several nights. The grass on the ferry was not ripe and covered with snow several times. On the shore of the old ferry, she quietly listened to me play the piano and sing, a few inches a day.
The lost time, for whom to write the past. Inadvertent acquaintance, snow dancers at the old ferry are precious treasures in memory.
With the spring and summer of several dynasties, how many years have passed, a ferry with a broken bridge.
The fragrance of the late summer, such as going back and forth to the ferry, disappeared, smiling under the oil-paper umbrella, and the frightened heart was like a broken piano, searching crazily. The flowers on the other side, the soil where I first set foot, where did you go and how did you let me sing alone?
She won't come again. Please go home.
What do you mean? What happened to her? Where did she go?
She is in poor health, but what a good girl she was last night.
The simple words of the ferryman on the ferry, like a cold needle, stabbed my heart one by one and turned to hide my tears, but the ferryman stabbed my heart again and again, unable to speak again.
By the way, when she went back yesterday, she told me that if she couldn't come today, let me tell you that he had a good time in recent years. Every day, she watched the scenery with you, listened to you play the piano and listened to you sing softly. These years with you at the ferry were her best time. Thank you very much for your company.
Waiting for the old ferry, I will play the clavichord every day for a long time. Fingertips don't know how much time has passed, and years are like running water under a broken bridge. Snow painted white temples, eyes, familiar places on the other side, smiling with beautiful images, sitting on a green flat with an oil-paper umbrella, enjoying tenderness and affection with closed eyes.