Feelings arise from the heart
[Theme]: Essay.\[Content]: A plain zither, whose ten delicate fingers play gentle and tender melodies.\A long sword, whose green robe is stained with blood, strikes in anger only for a beauty?\Vast rivers and mountains, who holds whose hand, laughing as they watch the gentle wind and light clouds,\Holding a brush to paint a fan, whose floral smiling face enters the young master's fan?\Red attire spreads ten miles like a carpet, a hair-binding ceremony seals a lifelong destiny.\Whose affection can finally hope for eternity?\Whose longing finally brews until the day the flowers bloom?\The vow under the Bodhi tree, the bright moon witnessed whose deep affection.\Who froze the scene of their promise in yesterday?\The butterfly-dancing woman still exists, while the brush-holding scholar has changed faces several times?\Perhaps with too many expectations, in the end, there is only empty hope?\Is the Jiangnan in the storyteller's words still as blossoming as ever?\A cup of fragrant tea, fills whose gentle and affectionate heart,\A cup of turbid wine, intoxicates whose youthful dream?\After all, we cannot survive in a fantasy.\Seeking a quiet and elegant place, to end this remaining life, all affections, in the end, become illusions.\When the flowers bloom, one smells the fragrance of a hundred flowers.\When the flowers fall, one waves the ink to convey melancholy.\Brew a pot of longing, bury it, and years later, savor the richness of remembrance.\Who once drank and slept on the battlefield, playing melodies of farewell among thousands of soldiers?\Who once hid in the mountains, brewing a cup of past from ten miles of peach blossoms?\Who once gazed at the moon in confusion, with the stars and all things filled with sorrow?\Counting the pains of fleeting years, it seems that even those pains have become precious memories.\A lifetime chasing the past, how much beautiful time was missed?\No matter how the present world is, after several years, it will all return to dust.\Fate grants both desolation and strength.\A thousand-year-old wish, only to reciprocate, a passionate love.\Tens of thousands of glances back, only exchange a fleeting encounter.\In the moment when dust rises, what cannot be seen is the deep attachment in the eyes.\A lifetime searching without finding, finally, one discovers that a soulmate has always been by one's side, only it is too late?\Whose deep love converges into a sea, so blue, so longing, in the instant it meets the sky,\Who washes away all worldly ornaments, yet willingly dyes for one's attachment.\Who reigns over the world, and with whom holds hands to the ends of the earth...\At the ferry, waiting for eighteen years in vain, through wind, frost, rain, and snow, that person never arrives.\Even with a thousand knots in the heart, if you are well, the flowers bloom without withering.\How can ink-painted lotus bridge the world? In the realm of nine abysses, you and I go together.\Leaning on bamboo to listen to the wind, light as dust, when the wind rises, dust flies, and the dust leaves without a trace.\No dust, no sorrow, light dust, light sorrow.\Light dust.
