Miss you, in the south in the rain
The sky is blue, the heart be spotlessly clean. Is the sun, penetrate the soul of buddha. A cup of tea, a wisp of fragrance, dressed in a green, a warm memories, in the peak water drunk with the wind. Lonely glides over, deep in the years, misty sky into the misty rain, pour out the Jiangnan ink painting.
Meet you, is my most beautiful accident. The sky after the rain, no rainbow bright blue, but be struck with fright. You stand in the grass garden in a landscape of lakes and mountains,, dressed in white, amazing water. What is the reason? Only in that moment heart throb. What is love? Only in a casual glance each other. May be looking for a thousand years of waiting, perhaps forgotten the time of waiting, the moment will become eternal. Heart, is a lifetime. The most beautiful life, than the moment of encounter, the impact of the spirit and the meat, the beautiful jiangnan.
Gentle jade, pure heart and spirit, I take what to describe you. You are graceful in classical woman, with Tao Yuanming’s seclusion, Li Qingzhao’s quiet, warm, moist, walking in the Jiangnan region of rivers and lakes, writing elegant rhyme. Not warm, quiet, like the Jiangnan rain, fluttering Sasa, not much, if any dim in my dream. Mature mind, merciful heart, watching the flowers bloom, yunjuanyunshu. You light Youth passes as a fleeting wave. precipitation, elegant, you are a woman and deep understanding. Obsession, is my heart. Drunk, is my love. Soul, dream. Feel every drop of rain, are your tears; every cloud, are you feeling; each flower, is your heart, every ray of the wind, with your fragrance; every sound of water ring, are you of the light to sing. Yunshui Zen, you stand in the world of mortals, as the Buddha in my heart.
Walk in the rain in Jiangnan, along the winding Liu Di, see fish play wave, wind and waves, such as diffuse clouds as acacia. Think of the long strip, as you wind in long hair, elegant classical romantic. Qujingtongyou, waterside stone, all with a touch of pavilions, terraces and open halls, romantic thoughts. Has it been spring, your heart is still asleep? Peach blossoms, and thanks. The willow leaves and green. The rain in the banana, also his withered leaves are huge, Huai Su has gone to the millennium. Did you see that? Clear Bitan, hordes of black carp, mouth rank with weeds, in floating Sizaoli, enjoy the freedom of happiness. The flower on the grass covered hills, rivers, I wander in the spring, the heart is only you. There is a strange but rather like herring, as if I swim, rebellious, always do some strange things. Stir in a solitary Pavilion, the pavilion was empty, and that one is a melancholy blue willow, in the misty rain.
Like this magical land, and the land is a bit of a legend. This is the center of the city, the last pure land. Hundreds of acres of garden, hundreds of years of history. Over a small pool, up the hill, and a small pool. All through the path, all the ancient wood gray. According to ancient camphor and ancient Maple hanging the sign on, these trees have 200 or 150 years of history. The young tree, there are hundreds of years. They stand on the parapet, listening to the gurgling water, as if in the world. The old wisteria, along the old trees, winding a vigorous and
stubborn, wisteria purple, bright as spring unique brilliant, that is how a kind of flower organ? Pour out one kind of boundless and profound, unique and elegant and romantic like you. Rain of flowers, the flower. The birds chirp, in such a pure land, their song is most clear, their voice, only know how to love, I do not know how to hate. Birds such as the sounds of nature, accompanied by the sound of the water, with flowers, in deep shade, in the lonely depths, in the depths of my heart.
Under the stone bridge, is a canal, canal water quite anxious, more clear. Algae in the wind hair, small fry, as the tip, such as filaments, such as raindrops, such as women’s eyelashes, in stream channeling. The canal next is 254, several diaotai, into 254, ancient stone, but not a fisherman. Then a bit less “ruoli green, green hemp fiber, xiefengxiyu need not return” old-fashioned, I want to with you, Phi Mino Dai Li, Shouxiang, in this rain, rain, static to catch a pool of romantic. I am with Yu Gong, your wife is the millennium. Flower fragrance as if your nose, smell, quiet and elegant. Is a pavilion, built Bangshui, huangwa red walls, doors locked, beside with many rocks. Rocks, waterside pavilion, old trees, flowers reflection in the water, the fish as if in riprap, waterside pavilion, ancient trees, walking through the flowers, cruising and in heaven Wonderland. And hold you in my arms, holding a book, slow sing poetry Fu, in the south of the Yangtze River in the rain, let water reflected our appearance, in the stream of time quietly, slowly getting old. Finally, this pure and natural harmony and unity. At the end of the lake is a bridge, bridge, connected, and a tan. The big red carp and wagged his tail, slowly across the hole to the cleaner more shallow pond to, gradually hiding in the rocks don’t see. The embankment is a lawn, grass green and shiny. The rain grass, a smoke filled.
The housing building, or cornice tail, or Gu Xiang Gu Se; his tall, strong modern. Are nestled in the green trees, after several twists and turns, the deep, discovered a orchids. All the orchids, that a glimpse of the elegant flowers in the world, all I know, is a bit vulgar. Lankai Valley, as if the hidden world of you. “Jielu people in the territory, traveling without noise. How did they manage? The heart is far away from the. Picking a chrysanthemum, leisurely to see the mountain. Mountain air good. Birds also. This is true, want to forget words have been identified.” The hermit like orchid, and I’m just a chrysanthemum. You are blue, I am chrysanthemum, composed in Jiangnan rain. Blue, in the rain silent. Purple flowers, white, fresh and elegant, the petals light, thin, smooth as silk. It is rain cloud spirit, soul, dream of sanskrit. The orchid fragrance, the world no one can match the flowers. It is really penetrate the soul in Sanskrit, off the moment, a bright shining void of buddha. Orchid, elegant, in the hundred years old, maybe they don’t need a lot of sunshine, just a little bit of rain, is enough to shock the earthly blooms. Orchid, full of one, each flower, there is a you. You swaying in the petals, shake a poetic.
Because of you, is the wind and rain. Walk alone in the solitude of the rain, the heart has you enjoy happiness. Turn blue pool, the 200 year old maple of indomitable spirit, I wake up sleeping wild. All-powerful, of indomitable spirit, the world Ten thousand steeds gallop., a man I chant in a heroic but mournful tone. I want to dash about in a battlefield, a symbol of war in ancient China, die on the battlefield, having a lance sideward and poetizing. In the world, I was a hero, you are beautiful, you lie in my arms, weeping silently, tears moisten my shirt, writing immersed in love romance. My dragon, long sword, heroic life. Because of you, my world is no longer lonely, the leaves are falling down, at the foot of the have rain, soft, flowers, leaves, grass is always a mixture of together, really subtle emotions Yinyun; because of you, my words have wings brisk and ethereal mood and romantic feelings. The lush trees, into the sky, it is a kind of ancient and quiet. Hiding in the houses of ancient wood, occasionally exposed corner, colored
flowers, embellished. Flowers white, orange, yellow winter jasmine, red camellia, purple Paulownia, respectively in different regions, you inadvertently, and you hit a full. Because of you, my journey is not alone, not a person to see the scenery, at the moment, is clearly with you. You like air, in my breath, in my heart, in my blood. Your flower incense into my body, like, and I be made one. Thank you in this life, in my mind, in my body, you are everywhere. It’s nice to meet you in the rain in the south of the river. You hold a small umbrella, exudes faint orchid breath, eyes Ying Ying, poetry in my life. You are my life traveler?
Smoke, rain. In life, as in the past, light, occasionally busy, occasionally leisure, leisure reading, when you want to. Desire and you know, in the misty rain. For you know, in the southern spring. To be in love with you, in the corner of this life. Eager to fall in love with you, in this world of the city. To be with you in this world, forget us land. We met in the world, the pure land has become warm, hell is full of happiness. But you do not know, I only miss the quiet, lonely enjoyment, this one The End of Life.
You should fly with the flowers dense, rain. I love this sentimental love alone in the rain, rain dripping, I feel your presence. Your hands in my hands warm, your hair in my shoulder soft, your scent flowing in my heart and lungs and your laughter in my ears lingering. Rain, quietly, gently, softly. You’re quiet, warm, beautiful. The tears on your face, wet clothes, washing the melancholy hearts. I am waiting for you, in the rain in the south, and so you, a lifetime, you will come? Perhaps this life, you will not appear, also won’t come, you are just a dream of me, in the rain, the rain in the south, free of a thousand years. Where are you?
One thousand one hundred turn back, don’t feel is a piece of gum trees, straight trunk, is so straightforward, a point also don’t know a song, looks, or even my heart. I like that a straight line sky, is so much pride, the original my bones or pride, but forget yourself and proud. Do you like it? Such an original jungle. The vast and not marginal, with the mountain, to the end of the day. Among the dozens of acres of open space, open and boundless. The quiet, birdsong, breeze blowing, the rustle of a forest, walking in the forest, yellow leaves everywhere, such as packing blanket. Open to the end of the open space, is a new orchard, a large, a large, yellow soil, emitting a faint fragrance. Orchard outside, busy streets, color of the skyscrapers, only a fence across the hustle and bustle of the outside world, block in the outside. Pro, this is not as good as our hearts? Only a fence, and then create a pure heart of the heart. Only a few black dog, a few brown sheep, wild in the open grassland, foraging. Not far away, a disused kiln, is surrounded by vegetable, a dirt road across from the central vegetable, leads to the wall of the world of mortals.
Along a path near the orchard, slow the number of rows in a fence, a mensch chaifei, a wooden hut, one is full of frogs of the small pond, pond grows with grass. Open chaifei went, visible new species of pepper, eggplant, and open white radish, holding a yellow petals cauliflower, neat vegetable bed creeping many unknown wildflowers. A newly built skyscrapers, called the city island to, hospital dozens of strains of large camphor tree, called the green, than in the garden of luxury, I do not know how poor. But the man upstairs was lucky and contented, upstairs can see this piece of green sea, also have the means to console oneself with false hopes. Chaifei in the garden, has been extended to the skyscrapers based on, and the skyscraper, separated by only a bamboo woven into the fence, an old couple, in the building of the footing on the fruits and vegetables. Think of the people in the building, can be staged a reality version of stealing food, as easy as blowing off dust. The real frog drum, land of idyllic beauty, we feel that to get rid of the old couple pick Ji, happy and satisfied. As long as the heart, thousands of miles apart, and why. No butterflies flying wing, heart to heart, in fact, do not have to say. Silently love, silently understanding, silently waiting, silently blessing, everything is quiet, sometimes really can be silent wins. No secular, no cumbersome, it is pure love in heaven, feelings. Gradually drifting into touching and warm air, space and time through the millennium, burning in the life in the blue and white clouds days, romance is in the south of the Yangtze River misty rain.
Road not terminus, Baishi attached to each other, winding paths in the past, a straight road, beside the road is a tall, faintly hear the laughter of the young lady. Well, full spring vitality, and wanton publicity. Near the foot of a sweet scented osmanthus tree next to pour hundreds of stone, engraved with hundreds of years ago the airflow, everything will become history, including the building of youth laughter. Who have been youth, will slowly grow old, and finally a glass of dust. A piece of flat land, in several clusters of plastic flowers, a pile of burning joss paper ash, some firecrackers debris, flower is surrounded by a strain of newly planted laurel, surrounded by a circle. Perhaps is buried in the memorial osmanthus tree in the soul. Where life, that is our final destination, and can be made one laurel might be a good home.
The rain is getting deeper, the sky is getting warmer, the cloud is flowing, the wind is inclined, the feeling is lazy. A man walking in the garden in the afternoon, missing the life waiting for. If you are, you are in the heart. You may also seek me, in this lonely in the south of the Yangtze River and rain lingering, quietly, devout waiting, he served as time flies and squandered, did not give up the slightest. Dear, I really want to hug you softly, warm your life, with tenderness. With you together to listen to Jiangnan region of rivers and lakes in the song of the homebound fishermen, to see the river sunset desert solitary smoke; together waiting in the heart of the pure land, with the pen in the hand, the record of life, romantic. Meeting is a song, the truth is deduced. Acquaintance is the edge, the edge of Thanksgiving, and so you, in a thousand miles away. Miss you, in the south of the rain. Maybe this life, you will not come. I will wait for you, the next life, in the beautiful Jiangnan, amidst the endless.