[Reflection] The sunset is infinitely beautiful, but it is near dusk.

The twilight at dusk is beautifully soft, the sunset passes through the gaps between fingers, the evening sun scatters a ground full of lingering, overshadowing the times of yesteryear, this late spring dusk; the sunset is infinitely beautiful, the most beautiful time is at dusk. \-----------The loneliness after turning around\ the eyes drop deep affection, the sunset is infinitely charming. The sunset glowing red evokes colorful scenes, the dusk sunset wears makeup, the red rises and spreads to every corner, a kind of beautiful melancholy sits peacefully, enjoying this tranquility alone. The yellowing of the years, scattered past events like the sun's radiant rays, dusk is soft, the sunset is infinitely beautiful, who once said, “The sunset is infinitely beautiful, only near dusk.” \Strolling through the poetic April, the setting sun glows red over the hills. Sometimes at dusk, the sunset is fleeting, looking up at the colorful years, the profound youthful times, I once deeply recalled the protagonists He Mutian and Li Mengzhu from Qiong Yao's dramas, several sunsets. The spreading sunset, the evening clouds fill the clouds around the sun, by the seaside, the sunset reflects the remaining light on lovers' silhouettes, the familiar wooden lattice window, the laughter walking in the sunset, in the fragments of the glow, a warm glance back. \The sunset's flowing light fills with the lingering red, leaving a single person wandering through the streets, feeling the quiet flowing affection of the sunset, recalling old times, the laughter in life fragments, imprinted in the ink-wash scrolls of my mind. At dusk, listening to the past of the slanting sun, staring empty at distant mountains, tired birds return, this season of passing years, watching over that patch of sunset, the serene strings of music slowly spread, so quietly beautiful and soft, passing through the weathered forehead of time, the smile of dusk, the sunset scattering a ground full of lingering. \Reflecting the dusk, gently lifting the hair on the forehead, the red sunset, like melody, like cluster amaryllis, so beautiful, so soft, an extremely beautiful image, breathing, feeling joy. A gust of wind passes through the messy hair, starting to gently move the steps, a long and lingering aftertaste, this dusk mournfully lonely. The setting sun, small window, distant scenery, lightly singing like the fragrance of flowers, starting to wander the steps, quietly glancing sideways, this quiet sunset in the dusk is beautiful to the extreme. \Eyes intoxicated, time shattered, the April dusk, full of moisture, faint pollen in the air, under the evening glow of the sunset, reveals a hint of golden brightness, deep green willows tinted into translucent warm colors, at the end of this spring, the long-missed feeling of attachment, gazing at the charm in the sunset, I watch from afar, quietly melancholic, this scene, the dusk sunset, is it pausing for me?I like this dusk for no reason, I like the sunset, I like its crimson face, just as I like the words in my journal. Remembering the gentle whispers of dusk, the transparent warm colors of the sunset, my face carries a fragrant tide. Thinking of Xiao Chan Xue's lost dusk, that quiet moment of listening alone to Brel's melancholy, quietly, striving to gaze at the blue sky, the inexplicable melancholy needs such a dusk, a close sorrow with oneself.\Whenever longing comes, I depict the sunset several times in freehand style, enjoying quietly watching the crimson afterglow, peacefully as a page of writing. Leaving the clamor of the crowd, sitting in one place, turning off the phone, letting thoughts quietly decay, appreciating my own solitary fragrance, squeezing out memories. This dusk, the love that has lingered for a long time, behind the slightly intoxicated sunset, just can't regain that familiar voice, I am lost, pinning up messy hair on my forehead with a hairpin, walking past my own shadow in the afterglow, the sunset so quiet.\Time flows quietly, the breeze stirs the clothes, the golden dusk, the slanting sun stretches shadows long, beside the rose garden, near the forest of tree shadows. The slanting sun illuminates the bench in the dusk, lovers snuggling together, companionship through thick and thin. Floating clouds cling to the glow, the setting sun remains with elegant clarity, the dusk under the sunset becomes a bright scenic line, I reach out my hands to gather this rare warm calm, suddenly wishing the dusk could remain at this moment forever.\The sky is full of colored clouds, where seagulls fly, I like the dusk depicted in Qiong Yao's writing. The twilight is vast, flowing water takes away time, dusk fades, night falls, songs are sung, tides ebb and flow, sunset and dusk, only the seagulls soar.\The sky burned red by the late sunset, the sunset has poetic charm, the dusk has pictorial meaning. The evening clouds adorn the last moments of the day with a brilliant scene, a melody of soft strings drapes over the beauty, I think of a deep ocean like falling fish and grounded geese, the sea surface layered with waves, birds gliding against the wind, cries echoing. Inevitably, I like such a scenic dusk, liking this distance from worldly noise, intoxicated with the emptiness of the coast, the setting sun meets the sea, the sea surface's wave reflections charm and move, inspiring poetic expression.\Time gallops before my eyes, quietly storing the vicissitudes of yesterday in my sleeves. On the road full of mountain flowers, a cool breeze passes, flying honey sways with the wind in the shallow shadow of the sunset, sunset is fleeting, dusk sometimes arrives.Sunset dusk, weary birds returning sway with the tranquility of twilight. The cherry blossom rain by the river in April punctuates the beauty of the season. The lonely setting sun belongs to no one's tenderness.\The sunset softly scatters on the windowsill. This dusk, after winter passes and spring comes, brings ease to the past murmurs in the fading springtime. Under the beautiful sunset, flowers fall tree after tree, blowing through the memories in solitude at dusk, with so many tender years unfolding in dreams. The dusk in the sunset, from time to time turning back, cloaked in the red of the setting sun, writes the plain shadows of poetic dusk, comprehending the true meaning of life.\The sunset in the dusk, in that moment, changes the appearance of all things. The red like parasol leaves of phoenix trees, birds singing, colorful clouds, like dreamlike garments, the sun, moon, and stars singing in the splendid glow; time cannot be held, spring is gone without a trace, tides come and go, gatherings and partings are bitterly fleeting. How many times the green mountains remain, how many thoughts of red sunsets.\The sunset is infinitely beautiful, but where does the time go; the sunset is a flower that blooms late, the sunset is aged wine, the sunset is a love arrived late, the sunset is sentiment unfinished. Rippling like the years in song, a magnificent yet regretful ancient ink painting. Gently, dusk passes, the sunset departs.\At this moment, I recall the famous quote by modern essayist Xu Zhimo: 'Leaving quietly, just as I came quietly; I gently wave my hand to bid farewell to the clouds of the western sky. The golden willows by the river are brides in the sunset; the bright reflections in the waves ripple in my heart. Quietly I leave, just as quietly I came; I wave my sleeve, taking not even a wisp of cloud.'