If spring sentient beings, grass from green
If spring sentient beings, grass from green author | night stop “March the book of heaven are misprinted, unexpectedly no one knows!”Pale human, ginseng sky machine woman standing in front of me, the words of anger cut through the light cloud xia yi.I opened my bleary eyes and woke up in the soft wave of an early cherry.”Well, I will arrange for you the willows drunk and the east wind, the peaches yao and li Yan from the march map and the April silk.Now, are you satisfied?”I promised her with the power of reversing the sun and the moon, and she vanished with joy…Tiptoe from the wind shake wake up a dream about spring, the morning star on the window is peaceful, the night is not ended.The grey light still preparing for the day, its silence, its silence, its silence, its silence, its silence.I think of the dream of February cold dew, March cool, DO not know how April will start.Yes, I think every day and dream every night.Since the winter had fled, the snow of February and the thunder of March had quarreled, and the incessant rain had come to play again, as if to seize the catkins of April.The book is so absurd that no one really cares.I am not the tathagata, nor do I have the magic power in my dream, and what splendid dower can I add for the flower season in March?In addition to being tired of the vagabonding of life, this thick linen garment can cut a few slices of youth to feed the green beasts of life, and also support the tail boat to surf for how many miles?That day, I stayed in a mountain temple and met with a buddhist monk to practice meditation. He asked, “Why is it impossible to reach what is expected and what is not expected?”With his eyes closed and a smile on his face, the master tells a story about Buddhism.And borrowed the mouth of the Buddha, divulge a zen saying: “everything has its own arrangement, let it be.”To this end, I unloaded a large basket of cochlea horns that I had collected for many years and sacrificed them to the Buddha in order to redeem the scales of a soul lost in a previous life.Down the mountain still walk to the road, when the road obstruction and long, back to pour two sleeves hide clouds, light as a swallow.If, the ship of life can also return, time and space can turn, the journey of half a life is about so the wind sleeve month, a thousand leaves singing?War for many years, or lost to the reality of encirclement.Coward in a paper surrender book, signed, painted;Scholar low eyebrow shun eye, please life.After wrestling with every penny, or falling on your throat after being besieged on all sides, it would be better to pour a bowl of snow from Tianshan Mountain with lotus from Locha Mountain and boil wine to water your chest.To be an ordinary woman, it is not good to get her clothes washed and get tea.The conquest of wearing flower na jin was pressed into the bottom of sandalwood box by me, and then spread the time of massiness, so as to end the scene leading to clothes and temples.However, the dust settled the door, has been open to me, where I display half of the memories of life, and three times of one heart agreement.Just the handwriting on the plaque, has been derived from the ghost of time.By beam floating in the sea in the town, gradually put down poetry, simple clothes bound hair, pretend to be a vulgar woman, through the market.Early painstaking temper of a poem boat, comb mu a wind and a boundless wave of sentiment, human rou Chang 100 turned, also had the pen point stars, flowers and ink;But the end of the rain to return to the boat, liao left a little bit of broken broken chapter locked in the dream of earth, in order to comfort the line will be late.In these years, she has been walking between reality and dream. I have seen the nature of wind and rain. It is lucky that she has not fallen off the cliff and found herself in the mire of dream.How about another patched-up, nondescribable Burnet for out-of-print, like a frog showing off the vastness of a well to a turtle.I know half of my life, time gradually, and the heart gradually lazy, those suffocating chapters and fragments can always temporarily sealed.Although also angry half life looking for no gain, but never give up the lights suddenly look back turn.Often imagine: if I am a star, who is the moon?When is fair?There is always an answer, let it be.I am well acquainted with the routines of mortals, and how could any idle fellow of the same kind have the same leisure, except that the ways of existence occupy time as new and constant, to plot a tale of the moon and the stars, and to carry the drama of life to its climax?I have already become a round of rising red sun banter between the eyebrows of heaven and earth a grain of cinnabar, so defiant temperament, if the arrangement of the day, and will give me a what kind of zhu approved imperial decree or a everyone envy of the free gold medal?I don’t care, let it be, let it be…A bird’s cry broke through the lonely morning curtain, and loose sunlight poured on the steps.Outside the hospital, there have been people smiling back a pregnancy sunshine can be sent to the food.If it were an arrangement, WHY would I not let it be?