Listen Sanskrit

A wisp of dusk, a cup of green tea, and the setting sun like tea can always make people feel a lot, about trivial matters, about life, or just like the old things of the previous dynasty, a dream is floating, all kinds of chaos and chaos. The most touching thing is that the Green Mountain is still there, with several degrees of sunset red, the setting sun and fire all over the sky, and on the bank of the river, there is only nothing to say about the heart. The river flows eastward, and the white-haired fisherman is a leaf boat; The river flows eastward, how much dust is washed, how many old dreams are sealed, whether it is destiny or the endless years, which can pass through our years. I remember the smiling words in my childhood most. They are innocent and innocent. The Willows and Lotus wind in summer, fishing by the pond, kites flying across the farthest Sky are like laughter with wings. What is on the other side of the sky, and my mind is full of outline, the blurred imagination in sleep, the desire to grow up, and the hope to travel around the corner of the world. Growing up is a fresh story in the class. The ignorance and sorrow revealed on the poem roll and the favorite book are always eager to read it all the time, sleep soundlessly, and sketch out the fresh color of the world in the dream. Young, schoolmates, joy, fighting between classes, crowds of back under the sunset, passing through the happy and ignorant Green years. Gradually mature, the Four Seasons begin to become clear. The mood changes with the seasons. The warmth of spring, the boredom of summer, the loneliness of autumn and the coldness of winter tell the story of youth in words, the wandering whispers echoed in my ears. What ignites the dream and makes me look forward to it. The bright sadness in the sky and the vague mark in the corner of the wall rummaged through the photo album. The world was clear and far away, but it was so young. Youth is a flickering lamp, flickering and blooming, which outlines the gorgeous light and shadow. The beautiful sadness in the dim light, time stops for someone, and the heart is whispering the shallow Dreamtalk, which is like the gorgeous flowers. The breeze in the smile brings the fragrance all over the floor, piling up the dreams, time is slow and long. Time finally passes by. There are always many bright and beautiful scenery in the story, which make people stop and stay. The notes on the staff are the movement of youth beating. We have gone through the most beautiful years and led to the vast sea of the world. Who closed his eyes and meditated under the old tree, with the ethereal Sanskrit in his ear, watching the fading floating in the sunset, and the clouds flashing the final luster. I suddenly remembered the flowers at the corner of the wall that year, the verdant and straight branches, and a fiery red beauty, as if walking in the painting, the petals curled upward like silk, like a pair of hands stretching out to the heaven, red dazzling. Later, it was known that this flower had a beautiful name, called Manzhushahua, also known as the other shore flower. Its story was as simple and beautiful as it was in late autumn and bloomed in the corner of nobody as if it were alive. The other side was suffering too much sorrow. The vicissitudes of time turned back, but it could not resist the stubborn heart blooming from time to time. Was it for guidance or for a glimpse of the face that passed through the forgotten river. Life bears too many similarities. When I come down to the world in ignorance, I walk by in a hurry, waiting alone and blooming stubbornly. Is it to have a look at the prosperity of the world or to find a destination, or for the eternal destiny. Thousands of worlds, the reincarnation of life, our wandering laments, rolling away in the world of mortals. The river is endless, the years are endless, through the thousand years of old traces, through the scenery of previous life and present life, on the other side, flowers bloom, is it a pursuit or a dream. We gathered and dispersed in a hurry, and the fleeting time was like a song. We went far away and walked in the depths of the years. We did not regret our youth and this life. Like (prose editor: Jiangnan wind) the snow in spring Spring elimination snow, multi-the yao nian, unspoken. Reading from afar, it is just above that snowfield. The snow is really beautiful, after all it is spring… Waiting Waiting is a kind of persistence, sticking to a certain belief and never giving up. 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