A city, a person, a song, a love to walk in the history of the wheel ran over the blue stone street, moonlight wanton waving sad melody. Stop, a ray of breeze, raised the front of the hair, light from the hands of the folding fan, fear of disturbing the world's silent dream, alone, stroll in the bustling history of empty city. The hands of the candle, accompanied by sad wash empty city moonlight, witnessed the rise and fall of the king of honor and disgrace. Years of mottled history of the green walls, but still left outside the city is still the proliferation of peach. Bluestone long order, in the long roadway in the faint song, who was in the years of the river in the weeping v. The wind raised the corner of the dead leaves, all familiar with the illusion. Hazy, celadon women such as water slowly came, smile Jiao Chen speechless . I raised the hands of Shaohua, no intention to disrupt the years of quicksand. The screen suddenly see the city before the break in the night, rendering the most gentle farewell farewell farewell. Love and hate are not turned into yesterday's withered yellow flowers, while the night wind blowing, all sins in silence in the city of red walls of green tiles. Around the river was removed, pavilions did not change yesterday face. With the wind to see the history of the millennium, who used to be very deep, leaving the affection is not bear. Under the moon I fantasy years ago the city broke the night, but I do not know how many years later to write tonight? Autumn creeping trees on the cicadas, under the soul of the soul to forget everything. Flashy life, life is like a dream, relax the minds of the world of joys and sorrows . Once the all-powerful romantic characters, the most can only be a text recorded in the annals. I used the young little bit frivolous, record the passage of time in this quiet time, but I do not know what the future generations of students will write me look like? The wind, because drifting life, so doomed to loneliness. God gave us this life to meet, but not destined to have a perfect ending. I write the pen to write, but unfortunately attracted to the wind from the moon, recall the old things Xicheng tactics, full moon is incomplete, but the year of the covenant, time has forgotten. Road, through, and to the edge of the time will be scattered; people, experienced, and some things will be alienated. The world always eager to each other, I see the best ending than forget the rivers and lakes. I do not know after years, when I faded a lead Hua, whether it will again visit the old city, but I understand that those who stay in the nostalgia, regret, and finally in the years slowly bearish. The wind stopped, the song scattered, the end of the memories should say goodbye. Looking back, this long roadway, the moon is still like water-like light sprinkling, no one will care about the pace of a scholar, so silence please continue to silence, lonely, please continue to lonely. Years quiet, do not disturb each other, just want to sigh bridge red medicine, year old crazy who laugh? The autumn wind drifting, leaning against the window, only in the depths of the candle, who is still in the pen to express, dyed dust: autumn cold dew wet wet Sang, under the independence of the North, Tim fragrant ten years to read good articles, braved Wei Shu to Luoyang literati point ink lyric, green history is not book thinking of the heart tonight sigh thousands of years, later sigh tonight cool walk after the fishing family singing Xijiang, new words old words melancholy partridge Luo Qingqing grievances into the old hall, this is what is the usual rain curtain frost by waves, green water long flow of the party with the wind and wind, the mountains do not change the rain to live a lifetime of domineering for the lieutenant, The joys and sorrows of the common tenderness to sing, arrogant return to the sun is not dead juvenile years of death, come back to laugh the vicissitudes of life still remember the heart was crazy, less young people have not changed yesterday, A few lines, the feelings of hard to read the old and difficult to read the Soviet Union and the Soviet Union looks like, white hair three thousand Yingying yellow light Ying Ying wood study, autumn frost to do with the minds of the injury to mention the pen to write the old king, Pardon, descendants sigh my young mad wind endless spare sound, a hundred years lonely