when the wind is blowing, the snow will break up, and the dream will not come true.
Shan Cheng, water a journey, the body to the Yu Guan that bank row, night deep thousand account lamp. The wind is more, the snow is more, and the heart of the village is shattered.
in the dream of the old soul, natural desire to break, why more autumn wind.
be heavy, you must remember.
at the time of understanding, and today, the total loss of love.
one life and one double, two disputing for the soul.
the talent is shallow, why do you want to be thin?
idle worry always pays drunk to sleep, only afraid to wake up to the bottle before.
the back lights and the moon will be overcast. It's the ten year's trail.
Shan Cheng, water a journey, the body to the Yu Guan that bank row, night deep thousand account lamp.
heavy, monarch must be remembered.
I am the world's melancholy guest. In the sound of the broken intestine. The powder fragrance looks different, the empty left then the month. The moon is also different at the time.
if life is like a first sight, why should autumn wind draw sad fans?
powder smell see again, empty left then month. The moon is also different at the time.
who read the west wind alone cool, Xiao Xiao yellow leaves closed windows. Thinking about the past and setting up the sun. The wine is not a heavy spring, but a heavy book.
let's not think about the past, and look at the setting sun.
the ancient rivers and mountains have no definite basis. In the sound of the corner, the herd horses come and go. Who can speak in the desolation of the eyes? The west wind blows the Old Dan maple. Never have a lot of bitterness? Iron Ma Jin Ge, tomb dusk road. How deep is it? Deep hills and late autumn rain.
the talent is shallow, why do you want to be thin? ()
do not hate the water, hate the residue of butterfly powder.
the west wind how much hate, blowing the eyebrow bend.
Hugh is thin in the west wind, and is the first to scratch.
the world is disconsolate, do not ask the old tour to Heng Tang.
I am the world's melancholy guest. In the sound of the broken intestine.
the heartbroken moon and red bean seeds are like those at that time.
the quiet number of autumn, and the wrong heart to the lower chord.
the gambling books were splashed with tea.
the rain is cool, a dream eleven years ago.
one generation and one two, and two disputing. Acacia is not related to each other, who is the spring?