Winter Lyric Prose 1

Autumn quietly with lonesome gone, the cold wind with a cold face blew, snowflakes also finally full of sky flying up, cold winter came. Snowflakes drifting up everything is white like, Meng Meng can not be seen, snow gradually down big up, the face of the sun has long been covered up.

The leaves on the trees have long been falling, leaving only the bare trees off, the grass has withered, but the snow buried the only trace of them. The earthworms and ants have not known where to hide, only the sparrows in the field, in the woods between the dead trees flying around, in groups called friends for food. You see the snow as big as goose feathers, such as flotsam, a large, a large area is full of, whether it is houses, streets, or country roads have become discolored, even driving on the road cars are usually colorful now basically white, snowflakes are like a magical magician to all he can to the place into a white world.

You look at the trees, whether it is poplar, willow, peach, apricot, or pear trees are full of white flowers, as if a thousand trees are full of pear-like, that a white flower white lovely, white dazzling. Unfortunately, there is no bees and butterflies accompanied by the figure seems to be a lot less dynamic vitality.

Snow is the winter spirit, winter is silent and cold and lonely season, everything seems to rest. Human activity is also much less than other seasons, everything seems so cold and quiet. I think winter is like a lonely and silent and very calm terrible poet, so quietly feeling to find their own creative inspiration, let their own poetic gallop in the winter sky. Winter is like a beautiful but cold and proud girl, her heart is exquisite crystal she looks forward to the arrival of spring. Winter is more like an old man experienced years of frost and snow to now only the last cold and lonely, is the attachment to life and unwilling to helplessness, so that he became penetrate the world like cold silence.

Winter you do not have the charm of spring, there is no summer enthusiasm, but also no autumn light sadness and harvest, you are you you are so cold, so cool, you have your pride and capriciousness, you use the snowflakes to show your bosom your beauty.

winter lyrical prose 2

Winter quietly came, the autumn girl has not had time to say goodbye, winter rhyme is singing and dancing, with purity and dreams lightly play a gentle song, with snowflakes dancing rhythm, and plum blossom fangfei in the earth faintly waving rhymes, winter is coming, the spring will still be far away?

--Title

Winter rhythms, shallow rhymes in the white snowflakes, in the fragrant and charming plum blossoms bloom, the beautiful sentiment in the drift, silk warmth, surplus with the sunlight faint fragrance, fresh air in the morning, the sun shines warmly on me, cozy filled with the heart, quietly listen to a song of polyester serenade, any The flow of time lightly, the warmth of the feeling of silk surplus warmth, this winter warmth like spring, music such as a brook, slowly flowing into your distant heart spring, will be a vein of warmth such as spring into your heart, with wisps of sunshine to bring the most sincere good wishes!

Gazing at the snowy night, crystal jade butterflies flying on the dust, sentiments with the wind dance, snow dance Qionghua cover the dome of the sky, glittering white world such as poetry, such as a dream, gently singing a song of gentle song. At this time, the crystal heart of the poem accompanied by fluttering snowflakes holding a dream, lightly carrying thoughts, rocking dance, through space and time, will be a bunch of heart fragrance pulse transmission to your window, inadvertently gently slipped into your dreamland......

The snowy night Shu thousands of volumes, flowers when sprinkle Fenfei. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do this, but I'm going to be able to do it," he said! The winter rhythms are diffuse, and the cozy rhythms are diffuse. The first thing you need to do is to look at the world and see how it is going to be.

Winter rhythms diffuse, in the crystalline snowflakes dance. Snowflakes, is the spirit of the earth, she brought the beauty of the earth, silently into the earth, when the scarlet spit green when she knows where her soul, crystal white fluttering, mountains, mountains and rivers, fields, rivers, ponds, houses, all of a sudden, the world of silver, "suddenly like a night of spring winds, thousands of trees and thousands of trees pear blossom." Softly fluttering, she is the messenger of spring, telling the fairy tale of winter, bring the message of spring, winter is coming, spring is not far away, infinite vitality bloom before!

Winter rhyme bloomed in the snowflakes flying Hanfang, a beautiful night, the petals of the snowflakes crystal cozy, she seems to be a delicate woman through the millennium of watchfulness, in the world singing a song of poetry, pouring out love, poignant and long.

Winter rhythms bloomed in the plum blossom of the beautiful posture, silent rhyme, the wind cut plum rhyme fragrance, snow cut stamen Run soaring. Butterfly spry and lively, the sunlight lightly bath diffuse fragrance.

Winter rhyme fragrance such as a volume of elegant poetry, but also like a cold plum blossom, silent and red dust fragrance will be a vein of warm incense lightly diffused in the world, quiet night light song dance, gently will be a volume of tenderness and embrace a volume of ink and fragrance through space and time peace on your pillow, accompanied by you into the dream wandering warmth and Qinfangfei, the beautiful taste of the dream of the fragrance!

Four seasons like a song, spring flowers, summer warmth, autumn maturity. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on a new one, and you'll be able to do that! The winter sun is very warm and warm, bathing in the sun to feel the warmth of the snowflakes crystal, floating with the wind butterfly dance, ice and jade quality good, the most "a piece of ice in the jade pot" character, winter rhyme floating Fu poetry. It is full of hopes and dreams, and has the unique charm of a silent and gentle ode to the ballad.

In the winter rhyme I envisioned in the snowflakes send spring wonderful, feel the cold in the warmth of the sun, a snow melt flowers in the palm of my hand crystal clear, fluttering petals of snow with warmth and happiness through space and time quietly floated to your heart ......

Accompanied by the dream of spring, light summer warmth, ushered in the maturity of autumn, taste the flavor of winter. This season, have the peace of mind, read the greatness of nature, quietly into the winter rhyme, feel the peace of winter. The life of this season has more wisdom and color, the mind becomes pure and peaceful.

Winter rhythms are like a light painting, will be fluttering snow lightly, will be plum blossoms bloom in the painting vivid, at this time the heart returned to nature, like a babbling brook, silent heart springs spring spring gushing, slowly flowing water string fluctuations, play a song of spring melody melody, curling smoke, a beautiful bloom .......

Winter Lyric Essay 3

"There is a vine heron vine, born non-human, gold flowers between the silver stamens, verdant since the cluster" gently read, do not realize that the "bar" sound, tears have been in a moment slipped down the cheeks, wet the screen --- I hold the phone dumbfounded. -I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do this, but I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm going to be able to do it.

The sandy ground in front of the old house, Lonicera is blooming again, just like when you didn't leave. The two flowers bloomed in pairs, holding up the shy silver stamens, silently evoking thoughts of you. You said, we will be like this Lonicera, *** with the guards that night Lianzui over the wall to the playful, close to each other in the pistil of the silver warmth, but now, but only to leave their lonely silhouette ......

The night has been half, bedroll and lie down, but the tossing and turning can not be sleep. So get up, walk in the summer night, listen to the sound of insects and flowers, at that moment, the silence makes me think of the sand on the endurance of the winter. At this time, I think even the night sky is rendered deep by my thoughts, right? I think so, walking ......

A string of silver bell-like laughter came from the ear, the overlapping shadows in the swept over the eyes, startled that the grass gap in the insect song rattled to a halt. "We, will be good for life, right?" "That's not necessarily true, maybe ......" "What?" "Maybe two lifetimes?" I raised the corners of my mouth, envious of the beauty in front of me, walked up, the picture in front of me but in the touch of smoke, leaving only a lone person, looking at the eyes of this while the night of the newly opened Lonicera daze.

Inexplicable memories, gripped my heart seeped blood. The first thing I want to do is to get a good look at the newest and most important thing I want to do is to get a good look at the newest and most important thing I want to do. If you never left, will I gaze at you in fascination and listen to you repeat the promises of the past?

In the distance, in the neon lights flashing city, can you find this cluster of Lonicera? I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to find it, but I'm going to be able to find it, and I'm going to be able to find it, and I'm going to be able to find it. Legend has it that the Lonicera is a sister flower that can bring blessings and thoughts, and I wonder if you can hear the murmurings of my dreams.

Several times, we have each other. Remember, you said in a previous life, we may have died of spinal disease, I asked why, you said, we can know each other in this life, the neck is almost broken. But such a reincarnation, in exchange for the end is not a lifetime of friendship, between us, short as a meteor shower.

The hustle and bustle of the city, that never-ending restlessness, washed away the initial fragrance. In front of that huge "Dien" word, I could not hide the inner that swelled to the grief that I could not bear. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do that, but I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm going to be able to do it.

Turning on the phone, jumping is your last message "vine heron vine, born of non-people, gold flowers between the silver stamens, verdant from the cluster", I understand, that is Duanke penned the Lonicera, I understand that is a period of Lonicera general resilience of the friendship.

Out of the cell phone fluorescent blinding light, in this deep night, I wandered in front of the old house on the sand, just don't know, you will be the enduring winter flowers, come to talk to me about each other?

The late winter scenery is clear and silent. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on some of the most popular products and services in the world. Open the scroll of late winter, black and white ink rhymes presented in front of the snow world boundless elegance and full of scrolls! Ink rendering of the scroll, because of the experience of the whole winter cold skillful and chic, the snowy realm clear and bold. Fluffy dog's tail flowers, swaying in the wind, in this dry season, the dead grass is also a beautiful embellishment. The solidified dead grass stands gracefully. The snowy dry grass is a subtle touch of black burnt ink in an ink scroll. Dry weeds after the winter cold, solidified branches and leaves and fruit of the hard shell of the angular angle of the euphemistic also so beautiful. Decaying grass quietly waiting for the rebirth of spring.

The late winter winds of fondness rolled snowflakes, dancing. In the long silent time, the world of snow is like a snow fox, demonic and wild, charming and sentimental. Spiritual yet quiet. Wild when rolled with snow waves tumbling, charming when the silence of the snow fall sound will be heard. The world of snow is such a marvelous place that I look out the window and see the beauty of the cold beyond the glass. The branches of the trees along the river are covered with freezing fog, and every now and then rustling down to fall large chunks of snow frost.

The late winter winds are not stingy carving the beauty of the snowy region, the soft lines of warmth and simplicity. That a strip, a curve as the ripples of water. Time is also constantly carving, in my soul, the carving of the delicate flowers but also a trace of the whole, disappeared without a trace. The carving of time has left traces on my skin, but in my heart time has not left a trace! I am as poor as ever, and my mind floats in rags in the land of the free. I am as poor as ever, and my soul is unclothed, but it shines. I am still poor, only a cup of tea, a pot of old wine, a thin pen to accompany me! A cup of tea curling fragrance, a pot of old wine drunken sadness, a thin pen can not write all the elegance of poetry! Such as the remote and lonely alone to guard the silence, clean and light and natural life, such as a clear spring flow through! Fresh and light, always recalling the memory of the past, can not forget what should be forgotten! There is no grief, no waiting, no expectations, and naturally no disappointment!

Late winter winds, tumbling into a song of clear song. The rhythm of the soothing a little bit of the youthful departure of the grief, listening to the mood will be even colder. Gazing down at the heart of the moment of pain, the warmth of the gaze through the sadness, and time to brush shoulders. Through the memory, but then turn back to close your eyes and meditate on the wonderful time of youth. Youthful blood is hot, every cell is full of vigor. The hidden youth is passing by! Where are we lost in our youth? Youth has passed away, like a dream, but did not see the back of youth, how many people will regret not cherish this wonderful time, easy to get but so easily lost. As if a turn of the moment to find the traces of the missing youth.

The winds of late winter have blown away the dreams of the season, and the traces of sadness have not been blown away! Cold flowers fall out of the end of the Teng Ran look back, tears bloom on the fingertips of the expectations, crying is also a unique beauty. Moment or eternity, only in our hearts.

Late winter clear silence under the blue sky, winter's eyes tattered and incomplete floating through. Full of brown buds branches, fell down the cold and gloomy eyes of winter. The winds of late winter still smell the tyrannical breath of winter. Remnants of clouds floating in boredom, snowflakes drinking in the earth's awakening. And how much confusion is buried in the late winter and early spring season. The snowflakes drifted delicately in the late winter's remnants of the dream!

The late winter wind, quiet and cold, blowing a mess of the mind. The window and see not only the scenery, more is to look at their own mind like snowflakes in the sky. Pine trees with dry branches are still quietly and proudly live in the world, a cold wind outside the window carved a beautiful snow scene, but my heart is hidden in a lush forest.

This year's winter is so warm.

The weather at the end of October on the lunar calendar, the sun is still bright and warms the earth, a rare weather.

After only one night, the wind has blown away my hopes for winter. The cold wind took away all the warmth in the air, and the daylight was no longer soft, pale and somewhat distant.

The wind is coming from the north, and there is a heavy earthy flavor in the breath. The sky is no longer blue, the air is no longer fresh, the dust in the sky, dry and cold, winter or winter, finally came.

The day is like water from the eyes of the past, as if not let me leave something, they disappeared, I can not find back yesterday, become a point in the mind.

Everyone is the same as me? To the happening never regret, just like today is today, but I like to live in the hope of tomorrow. For the season, I love is always the next coming, will be longing, will imagine, and then let the season as usual, like water from the hands of slipping away, do not feel attached.

Winter, too barren, the color is dark gray, from the sky to the ground.

The white fog invaded my world, and everything became hazy in the haze, as if it was the beginning of the age of chaos.

The leaves have withered, dry in the branches swaying fragile body, seems to be a little reluctant to give up, just less green and fresh color, how to look at, but also feel depressed, so more hope that the next season can come early, red flowers, green grass, always so tender and lovely appearance, in the sunlight flashing with a touch of color, charming or tender.

Daylight is no longer hot, the air is less mellow flavor, the temperature fell to zero, the roadside of a wink of water has frozen, transparent and thin, like sugar gourds on top of the layer of sugar, stepped on it will be squeaky loud, countless small cracks from the feet spread until the edge of the ice.

The season is the cycle of life, buried memories of the last life. In winter, as long as the sun can still send white daylight through the window, the heart will still be warm, reflected in the shadow on the white wall, the corners of the mouth is upward satisfaction.

Winter is so warm.

Two years ago, I started a course at Ritsumeikan University in Kyoto. In the first class, there were more than three hundred students, and after the class had started for a while, I realized that there was an empty seat in the front row.

When all the other seats were full, the one empty seat stood out, and as I wondered about it, a middle-aged woman came from the back of the classroom pushing a wheelchair with a young man wearing black-rimmed glasses in it. He bowed to me and apologized.

This unexpected appearance caused me to pause for a moment, but soon I gestured for them to take the empty seat. The middle-aged woman bowed to the podium before sitting down, then pulled her wheelchair in front of her and took the book bag hanging from the back of the chair for the young man. Her movements were nimble, everything was normal, and she didn't bring any special feeling to the table.

Later I heard that the middle-aged woman is the mother of the young man, who is terminally ill, paralyzed, and needs to use his mouth to bite a chopstick to play the keyboard. The mother always pushed the young man to the university to listen to lectures, and many students knew about this wheelchair student. Every time I listened to my class, that mother always sat behind him, her eyes did not always look at the podium, but often looked at her son, her gaze full of love.

According to the university's regulations, my class belonged to the fall course, from the autumn leaves to the winter snow, Kyoto's autumn is more interesting than winter, so my course also felt better taught in the fall than in the winter, the fall tells stories, the winter tells theories, theories are obscure.

One time, I gave the students a topic, "Me and Religion," and asked them to write a report on a life experience that they could associate with religion, even if it was just a moment, and there was no limit to the length or number of words.

After class, the wheelchair student's mother came up to me and said, "Sir, he had to go home and write. It's slow writing, is it okay to email you?"

"Sure." I said as I wrote the e-mail address on the information I had sent him that day. The young man always smiled at me and bowed softly in his wheelchair. As it turned out, he couldn't even seem to speak. A few days later, about late at night, I received an e-mail from him. The following is an excerpt of what he wrote-

Mr. Mao:

Actually, I could have written this report in class, but when I thought about the way I was biting my chopsticks with my mouth and hitting the keyboard, I always felt that it was right not to let everyone see it, and that that look wasn't pretty. Sometimes I even slobber, I feel shy. However, tapping on the Kenpan is my happiest moment, not only is it my means of communication with the outside world, but it is also the happiest moment of my day. I would have felt better if I could have recorded what Mr. said in class.

I beg your pardon for not taking notes ...... Frankly, I don't know anything about religion, and I know that I won't live very long, but at the same time I know that I am happy, because it is my joy to be able to write this report to you now. When that joy is greater than my fear of life, I feel that I am happy. Religion is supposed to make people happy too.

In later classes, I could see this wheelchair student every time. His eyes were the brightest, his back was the straightest, and he never leaned on the back of his chair while listening to the lecture.

By this year's . Fall course, I had not seen him again. One day I heard that the young man had died in the early winter of last year, and I also heard that on those days on the campus, I would sometimes see a loving mother pushing an empty wheelchair past, just as she had pushed the young man to class that year.

The fall has passed and the harsh winter has come. If I could one day reunite with this mother on campus, I would love to say something to her, but I don't know what to say. I silently decided that next fall, my class would put the theory in the fall and the good stories in the winter to drive away the bitter cold.

Winter Lyric Essay 7

Winter always comes so fast, yesterday the sun is still warm, but today there are snowflakes.

The wind and snow still make me so intoxicated by her, rosy mouth, bewitching eyes, will always make me warm hearted adoration ......

Today, she cried, very sad, like aggrieved, but clumsy I did not guess her heart, she asked me not to hypocritically care about her... ...I am not going to care about others, always want to let the merits of others to conquer the audience, I always want to let her merits stand high,......

The cold northwest wind blew down a piece of the red through the Phacelia leaves, freeze-dried curled, empty heartless drift down! ...

"I thought about it all night, you let me be quiet, okay? Tonight you do not have to pick me up, I beg you ......" said the handsome face slipped down two crystal tears.

My heart trembled, what did I do wrong? Why do I always make her cry ......

"I don't care what you do, you don't torment me anymore ......"

I looked at her dumbfounded,

< p> "I'm sorry ......"

"You're not wrong, why do you keep making me follow your wishes? I'm not as good as you think ......"

"Okay, I know it's wrong, I won't force you anymore okay"

Forcing you, yes, the cold winter, and yesterday's warm sunshine can't save the ......

"Well, dear, I know we come together again is not easy," the bitter heart weaving a beautiful language,

"The past let him pass, are my fault. Should not let you be aggrieved ...... life who do not have bumps and bruises, we work together to change over okay? I know you have a strong sense of self-esteem, but you can't not say it ......"

I tried to say some gentle words, trying to let her wipe away the aggrieved tears ...... I looked embarrassed ......

Wet eyes blinked, as if much better,

Looking away from the distant floating flowers let it float empty... "Well, you do not have to say anymore, I know you are also embarrassed, but you ......"

I listened dumbly, as if reading a book that I couldn't understand, letting her drift, just wanting her to make up ......

The sky was overcast, and the sudden winter took away yesterday's Warmth .........

My love and I walked through the sinful spring, and arm in arm to watch the passionate summer, the fruit of the fall has bitter and sweet, but I also do not want to miss the cold winter, I will accept the reality of no matter how beautiful the sunrise or the miserable cold winter, I will be ...accompany...you...one...up...go ......

Winter Lyric Script 8

Chang'an flowers fall out of the end of the pen with the sadness of loneliness and another fall. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do this, but I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm going to be able to do it!

Spring is a girl, she danced in the winter, snowflakes fell on her outstretched fingertips, melted, disappeared, like a dream, gently, quietly, nowhere to be found. Originally, this winter with the secret of next year's spring, who does not know, with, just quietly with. Hush! Who should not say broken.

Last night, I don't know who sneaked into the night, when you and I were asleep for all the scenery quietly made up, smeared with a thin layer of powder. The sky, when slightly bright, you will see a woman with a light makeup. The morning frost transforms all the winter scenery into millions of beautiful women with water out of hibiscus. In a flash, your mind flashed a light, so that you have to use words to describe some:

"The morning frost is slightly with cold, withered grass and trees, powder beautiful people."

You can not move the pen, but you can not not move the heart, so the scenery will be more or less emotional! If the scenery is sad, the pen must be with sadness, written will also be a piece of sadness. You can't change the scenery, but you can operate your own heart, if the heart is set, why all the sadness.

Winter is winter, but the next spring is not far away! If "pain" and "pleasure" is a cycle, now pain, the next cycle is pleasure.

Love and heart line. The next moment is spring. The next moment is spring!

I

I have a pot of crabapple orchids on my nightstand, with tender green stems and pink buds.

Every time I look at it, there is a watery spring in my eyes.

But this morning, the eyes are sore, last night greedy warm, the air conditioning was not turned off.

So I clicked on my friend's space and read the sad words.

And then lift the glasses to see yourself in the sub, hazy curve.

The bracelet was worn on the arm for half a year.

In summer, the bracelet slipped and fell, giving the arm as cool as water.

In winter, it is still stubbornly a slip, giving the arm as cold as ice.

Want to take it off, afraid that the hand will still be squeezed to bruises.

It turns out that some changes. Non-pain. That is, bitter.

Two

You look to a city where he lives, two years.

After a five-hour drive, climbed nine floors.

Cook a pot of lily and lotus congee. Boil a pot of wine.

Four eyes look at each other and speak with you. The white congee and shallow wine, with you.

Spring flowers, autumn and moon, with you to enjoy. The first thing you need to do is to get a good look at your favorite movie, and then you'll be able to see what's going on.

The distant morning bell was struck, late evening drums, will be replaced by a few lights.

You leaned on the door and looked at the ten thousand curls of smoke, think back to the time when we met,

Bitter smile of this dream. The first thing you need to do is to get out of the car and get out of the car.

One can still have a dream age, if the night does not sleep sleep not even, it is best not to get up, close your eyes and then sleep.

If it is not your blush foundation retreat dye, how do you know you in the dream this end of the longing, waiting.

I would like to be in the deep alleys of Jiangnan, with him holding an umbrella and hand in hand.

Spring pick up all the way to the dark scent of flowers. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty.

But you, my dear, are not by his side.

Three

You are thinking that in winter, the clouds in the north are also pale.

Clouds and clouds meet, will it be able to change into a snow.

Her world, at that time, willow like snow, at this time, snow like willow.

Sheepishly simple and clean, covering the sky. As you give her miss.

The snowy days, she will wear snow boots, step on the snow, listen to the sound of winter.

The windy days, she can be long hair coiled up, long hair ò hide light grudges, not combed.

The distance in the world is the distance between wanting and doing.

It is the sun and the moon, only alternating not depending on each other.

It is the sky and the earth, which only look at each other but do not snuggle.

It is you who stand in the beautiful colors, but your thoughts are in the snowy mountains.

Four

Since the encounter, you see another kind of distant and close distance.

It's dear you, not around, but in her heart.

Winter Lyrical Prose 10

Woke up with a start, look at the time, six o'clock is not yet. The morning of the New Year's Eve is really cold heh, so cover the quilt, want to sleep a little longer. However, the dreams of the night, the thought is appalling, can no longer sleep.

Sinking into a deep sleep, I do not know from which website or newspaper read a piece of news, said that a not too small tourist team, in a few months before the collective disappearance of the public security department used all the power to look for, there is no clues, so that people are puzzled. However, not long after I somehow came to them, which made me very anxious, shouting to go back to report, but also feel very unfair, how I suddenly came to an unknown place, and also with them! For to-morrow I had work to do, and an examination in language and literature. So I shouted loudly, but no one paid any attention, they or they read to themselves or did the work at hand. I realized that they were so calm and peaceful. Then look at the environment they were in, also so quiet, no wind, no clouds, no sun, accompanied by a long and thin lamp, glowing cold green light, very like the world of oil paintings. So, I asked them how they came to this place, one of them said, "Today is the era of big data, all cloud computing, fog computing, the concept of space and time has long been changed, you are still calling in what place to do" I said, you disappeared collectively a few months ago, the public security organs and all of your family members are anxious crazy, while you are still in the Here in the clouds, really can calm down ah. "What can be done about it, in fact, we didn't want to come here, but we have long since failed to find our way back!" Another man, who was about fifty or sixty years old, said. But, but I can't stay with you guys hehe, I have to work tomorrow and I have an exam, so you guys think of a way for me to go back. "That's not going to happen!!!" The crowd said in unison.

I still kept shouting, repeating the words like Mrs. Xianglin, clamoring and insisting on going back. I ran toward a place where there was some light, but my feet were like on cotton, empty and floating, how could not move a step. All around a silence, my body gradually cooled down, feel about to suffocate, also seems to be driving a cloud, but I still use the last gasp loudly shouting, noisy. At last, a gentleman who looked like a steward appeared, and he said to me in a very amiable and friendly manner, "Stop your noise, I will call a man to come and see if there is any way out. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, a wonderful woman floated in, with no path at all behind her, as if it were some twisting and turning chicken path, and she was wearing a green dress, with a little smile at the corner of her mouth, but it was with a trifle of sarcasm. So she spoke to the gentleman who was in charge, and nodded knowingly, but I distinctly heard them talking about killing me and reincarnating me. I had no fear of death; death was actually a beautiful thing among the ancient Chinese or in the Western Protestant Christianity. It's just that I didn't know what method they would use to kill me, knowing that pain is far worse than death. I thought this while following the woman in green in a daze to a large, wide and long river. There were no big waves in the river, only some small ripples, quietly flowing. Banks are born cold trees, yellow leaves have drifted in the water, or light or heavy with the water contact, like mutual sighs of sorrow and suffering, but also like mutual solace, and then gently with the river flow away. "The first time I saw this was when I was a student at the University of California, Berkeley, and I was a student at the University of California, Berkeley, and I was a student at the University of California, Berkeley.

But when I was sad when, suddenly an old man came to my side, look at the age of at least a few hundred years old, all white, just two eyeballs black, dark, bottomless. I went forward and bowed to him, as a greeting, the old man look at me, light open red lips, leisurely said: "Why are you in a hurry to go back, in fact, where people are the same, as long as the soul and they are together, as long as the love and thoughts and their loved ones together, you are together. Thinking like this, don't you think you will become peaceful and calm? This river has been rippling like this for tens of thousands of years, it's a kind of cultivation, a kind of bosom, an attitude of survival." "Yeah, why didn't I think about it like that before?"

However, that said, but still want to go back to see, this is not greed for the earthly world, but indeed the cultivation has not yet reached it. So, I still want to say something more with the old man, but a turn around the old man early disappeared. "I want to go back! Tomorrow I have to go to work and take the language and writing test." I still stubbornly think this way, even if I go back to finish the exam and then come back. "No, that's all there is to say." They had said with great impatience.

So, I was also indignant, is there no place to reason? The big data era was this? I am questioning the defense, hands dance, feet, but found myself quietly lying in bed, look at the time is this year off the winter morning, six o'clock is not yet it. Unfortunately, the dream is gone, only a few fragments of memory remain.