First sadness

Spring, silently coming. I wandered in the garden to watch the beauty of the spring. Spring, colorful and red is always visible everywhere. The garden is full of flowers. Fuzhou has very few peony, but Du Fu is also in no way inferior - she hangs on the grass slope, red like fire, white as clouds, powder as yarn, dotted between green. Shifting the line of sight, the spring flowers are gently swaying. The flowers seemed to be sprinkled on the branches, and the flowers were dense and golden, adding an infinite poetry to the garden.

I continue to walk. Pieces of peach petals came face to face. I took a light piece and went under the tree. The pink of a tree attracts the bee butterfly to stay in love. Such a beautiful tree! It must be the most noticeable tree in this garden. A spring breeze blew, the petals of a tree danced like a shower of rain.

I think of what it is, this beautiful peach blossom, the wind blows, it will disappear. Is this the fleeting beauty? Thinking of this, my heart is a bit sour. The petals of the petals fell in the soil with the wind, stained with some spots, and the beauty of the past fell to the ugly pollution, and I couldn’t help but feel sad. There are some cold and pity in my heart. The people on the side are still immersed in the joy of spring. Who else will remember the faint sorrow in a corner?

I am amazed at the scene of the "Dream of Red Mansions" 黛 葬 , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , When the four seasons of the year fell, there was still a jade burial, but now, who is there to pity the flowers?

However, the red is not a ruthless thing, turned into a spring mud and more flowers! When you think about it, the peach tree can open the splendour of this tree. Is there any credit for it? Although the flower is dead, it can make a contribution, isn't it? Although it is a pity, it is not a pity - lived, beautiful, and contributed.

Who is there to scorn: "Falling red is not a ruthless thing, turning into a spring mud to protect the flowers."

Sixth grade: bud