Good sentence Daquan > practical poetry

Romantic and beautiful poetry


Even no catkins are coming from the wind, only the sunflowers are leaning towards the sun.

The crown is full of Jinghua, and the people are alone!

I am used to seeing flowers and thanking them, but I am afraid that the edge will be destroyed. . .

Talk to loneliness, just don't want to believe that you have left

A lot of things have been slowly removed and put together in the heart. Then things are wrong.

Red crisp hand, yellow vine wine, full of spring palace wall willow.

Flowers bloom and fall into the sky, and love comes to the situation.

Loneliness is just a gorgeous bluff.

The old moonlight, counted a few times according to me, plum flute to call the jade people, no matter the cold and climb. He Xun is getting old, forgetting, spring breeze pen. But strange, bamboo outside the flower, spring cold into Yao Xi Jiang Guo, is still. Sighing and Lu Yao, the night snow first accumulated. Cui Zun easily weeping, red 萼 萼 无 无 无. Chang Ji has worked together, thousands of trees pressure. Meihu Hanbi, and the film is also blown out When will you see

The pear garden dissolves in the moon, and the catkins pond is light. Lin Hua thanked the spring red, too hurried, but the cold weather came to the wind. Rouge tears, leaving people drunk, when heavy, since the growth of people hate water Changdong

Tears are meant to remind one person and try to think of someone, to remind themselves that there is at least one person worthy of your crying.

Nostalgia, Lanzhou urged. Doubted see tears in their eyes, even Yuning choke

No happiness, smile still. There are no fairy tales, and childhood is still there.

I am bothering myself without you bothering me.

Modao does not ecstasy, the curtain rolls the west wind, people are thinner than yellow flowers.

You can even smile like a sigh. This way I want to draw you sad.

Every year and night, Yuehua is practicing, and the length is a thousand miles.

I love the heart of the West River, the fiber is a jade hand, when who sleeps!

Read the moon and join hands, Luqiao smells the flute, contemplates the past, like a dream, tears drop

In fact, drunken dreams are just a joke with forgetting. When you think you have forgotten a person, you will find that it is more painful than remembering her.

Thousands of sails are exhausted, not my heart loves; three thousand weak water, which scoop knows me warm and cold

Long live the name, lonely afterwards.

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