Late autumn, as you rush for your stay

See also the full moon.
River, the water's edge, I Dimei Rush.
Empty bags, thin clothing.
Moonlight embrace me in your arms, fingers crossed quiet gentle plains, leaving behind a pale blue.
That night in Chengdu, dark flow, endless fields, the scattered light wind gently, so that ink on paper usually drain the plains suddenly vast and full hide all of their gradually dim, and gradually deserted, and gradually subsided.
Even if the stock market noise, the property market boiling, this years, this life, still depressed.
When the moon fell dead branches, in my eyes changes with light and shadow is a foreign land, walls, people sitting on mahjong table, cold eyes ......
This time, it was silk clothing nocturnal, some tossing and turning, and those Lost Souls of the prodigal son who staggered in the cups, sorrowful eyes, what for whom in whom absence hurt?
All the stars blinking, and no one answered.
Anxiety, panic, Tolerance thoughts ......
Membership by the train whistle, the birds in my heart towards you.
Where you have the hometown of the sun, and sorghum wine flavor, there is still a Shaanxi Opera, a confused, babbling sound of his mother's bright lights, every dream is a honey dipped.
And I've tried Sanshiliuji, can not come to you, only floating on the plains, from dawn to dusk, to drift into an empty shell themselves, useless.
Gust of wind, swing plain, shelter deep in the alley.
I looked up to see your smiling faces of friendly and co cunning Ji moonlight slowly reached down from the sky, let me nowhere to hide.
And you send me those dreams, those dreams do not wake up, there are those who are repeatedly opened and closed plot, in this late autumn wind, and repeatedly tapping the verse me speechless, I had to look forward to a meditation immortal.
Day and night, all to carry on.
Could not resist not only the time horizon there you apart.
In the breath between the look of love you can always wake up my memory.
Neem trees in memory is green, day and night growth, full of, is the night we were talking about art and life, and pain, persist, and no desire to describe, and write those words, only you and me poetry.
Under the moonlight, falling so light, past so heavy ......
Passing from the eyes of the past air-dried into a drop of tears hanging on his cheeks, hot.
Walking alone in the plain, I think you again and again, like some secular terms, such as: fate, World, Concert, this life, even at a loss until the loss of the eye.
Cause the world, and sometimes truly sudden, surprise.
Your previous life, I have missed; afterlife, too slim, also do not know who to wait for you in the ginkgo tree. Therefore, I do not expect, just want to live in this late autumn in a place full of roses, where you have a fence, moonlight, a faint sound could be heard in the spring. Every day, you can smell the aroma of my stir-fried vegetables, and I can see every time you looked amiable smile.
------- Dream too, have become a burden.
Want to go, and want to rest assured that the days of rolling-oriented, but unfortunately, those were the heart have a beautiful gesture to plot the total cross in the heart, so that everything is eclipsed.
Human customs million, why a little sympathetic, actually make me so drunk? Among these, whether there had been penniless? Asked the ending, but also with drunk apricot days after it?
Youzi month alone, as I wandered, saying nothing.
I do not think that those non-stop sadness came from the darkness, decorate my Love's waterfront, knew it, actually has become pieces, such as the vast expanse of the white reed flowers, tear up a little bit of the wind, scatter.
Highlights dashing, as thoughts of the loss.
His back, the moonlight pouring in my eyes, so that tears the guests.
Duras said: "We cry, to say do not say. We regret it can not love each other. We simply do not know anything."
But I know you came for love, never a bit away from.
Not the glass together, to do with roses.
Moonlight Through the silent, Italy honestly, I hurried away, end of the road, without you.
The wind go back to see hundreds of Jiuqi volume term fall into the eyebrows, a small woman from makeup is not flourishing.