Classical poetry is a genre of poetry. Judging from the number of words in poetry, there are four-character poems, five-character poems and seven-character poems. Four words are four words, five words are five words and seven words are seven words. After the Tang dynasty, it was called modern poetry, so it was usually divided into five words and seven words. Five-character ancient poems are referred to as five ancient poems for short; Seven-character ancient poems are referred to as seven ancient poems for short, and those who use three, five and seven characters at the same time are generally considered as seven ancient poems. The following is a complete collection of ancient aesthetic emotional sentences, please refer to it!
Ancient aesthetic emotional sentences daquan aesthetic sentences jade palace golden que, six Yao, orchestral, silk and bamboo clear, prefer folding willow. Who is responsible for responding and serving the purpose of yellow silk? The history of history is very short, so how should we sum up that luxurious time? When the words are used up, how can there be enough ink? Three thousand words are still too crude.
Looking back a hundred years, there are endless words and endless feelings; I can't finish the lawsuit. I'm alone. Looking at the past, thousands of lovesickness scattered in the wind, and let me smile and wander, step by step calmly ... just, just, look down on life, don't be old-fashioned, take my soul and shadow with me, and learn to walk and forget. I was drunk and dreamy for half my life, with tears in my eyes, and forgot to look back on this life.
Beautiful sentences, but knowing that the light and shadow are ambiguous, are just lies sown by loneliness. About indulgence, about entanglement, but nothing to do with love and romance. Just like two meteors inadvertently collide, they shine brightly at the moment of collision, and then return to their own trajectory. In this way, even the delusion of self-deception has become the secret of silence in the cold autumn.
Who is the beautiful sentence whispering in the flowers, telling the melancholy? Who printed the book on the flying petals? Looking back, flying flowers like rain mottled the memory, and the tears in the dream gradually quieted down. Time, getting old in the years, and I still stay in my dream, sad alone, sleeping alone. The beauty of this season is just waiting for you to pass by, passing by my piety, just passing by.
This season is fleeting, who sings in the moonlight for thousands of years? Who let your sadness cycle? The delicate soul drifted alone in the cold moonlight, but it was too late to forget. Flowers fall in one season and fall in one night, destined to pass by in the cycle of flowers blooming and falling, and then forget, let strangers look at each other and live in peace. A waning moon reflects the coldness of the room and confuses my endless vicissitudes.
Beautiful sentences borrow a clear water and accumulate a pool of lotus leaves; Bring a breeze and touch a green eyebrow; Ink is a piece of paper, and the title is faint rhyme; The taste of green tea is faint, and I think of a piece of dust smoke. Wandering in secular buildings, singing softly in the depths of the soul, leaving it with three thousand years of glitz, but flowers bloom and fall.
Mountains are accompanied by water, clouds are in love with rain, and some meet, which is doomed not to last long. In the silhouette of time, some people and things are warm in their hearts from time to time. Accustomed to looking back, those unexpected eyes, the warmth of knowing each other and cherishing each other, even if it becomes the scenery on the other side, there is no regret for this once shining attachment in life.
Time flies. A city of old things, missing for life. Autumn night, the moon is as cold as frost. Fold a melody, drink a cup of old wine, invite the wind, and drink lightly. The joy of wandering in the fleeting time, without saying goodbye, has quietly gone. My heart is still in place, withered. Waiting for you, just because you owe me a mark of past lives. Falling flowers all the way, the autumn is cool.
Beautiful sentences are just pear blossoms and catkins fly all over the city every spring. I want to ask the melancholy of leaning against Dongzhu, and I can save it several times. With a sigh, Tong Hua was shocked all over the floor, and the panic-stricken worries around him still disturbed the flowing piano. You kept a trembling mispronounced sound, and then played the high mountains and flowing waters of Linlin.
I think, if thin and cool has color, it must be the stone blue in Chinese painting, the cold color, and the blue of the blue cloth shirt worn by men in the old society. Under the flames of war, I experienced drift from place to place and falling apart from my relatives and friends. The blue shirt has been stained with a sad color and a thin color.
Time will never stop because of which one of us, because there is no beautiful scenery and no one is the end of the road. The days go on, and the mileage of life is endless. After reincarnation again and again, we will find that the old man still looks at us with his young eyes, with concern and comfort in his eyes and a little worry.
I want to knock some wind flowers and pick up some snow moon, but I find that what I knock out is still a little quiet life. Maybe words are just moments of thought, just an exit. In a blink of an eye, the years of Jinse passed in a hurry, and it was another moment of youth. The taste of the world is naturally happy, but tasteless is indifferent. Since you don't want too many auras, then hide yourself, pack your bags and carry the world. Make it mine and move forward proudly.
Fill the cup of sorrow and drink the pain of missing. Time has given us ever-changing shapes, but what we can't change is the hard-to-round waning moon. Between the eyebrows, the dim lights appear in front of the window: who is looking at the wounds in the calendar, who is thinking about the long-term release of the heart, who is still whispering about the lingering wounds of the "rolling bead curtain" ... wave after wave, there is nowhere to die in the boundless atmosphere. ...
I can get a lot of things without wanting them. Many people can stay even if I don't stay. You are like sunshine between your fingers, warm and beautiful, but you can never catch it. I walked in the desert of love and lost my way; The scenery along the way can only be forgotten while walking. No more struggles, no more entanglements. Time is like water, always speechless.
Beautiful sentences refer to the world of mortals, and the cycle of my life has become sorrow, gently bouncing off the dust on my body. Who has exhausted the thoughts of the end of the world, those prosperous sorrows have become the past, leaving me alone to find traces of the past. A west wind blew my mind away. In this life, who promised to give me half a city of smoke and sand? A thorn in a tree hurts my eyes. Who will protect me from death in this life? No one can understand the language of flowers, who is lingering with flowers.
Excerpts from aesthetic emotional sentences ... I forgot to look back at this life-www.yymeiwen.com for half my life.
Wherever it rains, I also pass by sleepless nights. Just a thin heart can't solve the joys and sorrows outside the curtain. Even though I didn't want to rewrite it, I chose my way. Have no regrets at first, but be worthy of the future-it's not too late in late autumn for no reason, and I feel ripples step by step, and everything is brilliant and light.
A relationship, with the drying of years, a curtain of worries, with the fading of fallen flowers. Who can untie the fallen petal? Who sent the fallen flowers? Recalling the past, turning around and looking back, you and I will fall into the world of mortals. Now, never give up, you and I lost the love of our lives, touched the gray, and how many memories eventually turned to dust; How many thoughts turn into clouds; How many hairs turn white.
If life is just like the first sight, why draw a fan in the autumn wind? It is easy to change, and it is also easy to change. Lishan language is clear at midnight, and the rain bell doesn't complain at night. More importantly, if you are lucky enough, you will be more willing than before. Love doesn't have to die, the fragrance is just right, and ruthlessness is not necessarily a refusal. I just want you to remember: love at first sight.
A world of mortals love, a thousand years of love, a few strands of acacia across the river, how many old dreams have been secluded? On the water side, I would like to take a boat with lotus fragrance, cross Qin Mingyue and tang style Song Yun, and find you on the vast Xizi Lake! I just want to ring for you every night when I miss you, gently; I just want to smile for you and erase the dust in your life!
The aesthetic sentence means that the frost is innocent, a curtain of dreams is close to the railing, the wind kisses the window lattice, and the wind whispers. It's your deep eyes overlooking, full of tenderness, spreading the softness of the whole world, as shallow as blue, bypassing my hair, gentle and graceful, just for you. There is a dream in the world of mortals, and the years are fleeting. Time flies, the dust is misty, and the feelings are sincere and sincere. I can only give you this life. Purple smoke is drunk, willows are red, clouds are fluttering, shadows are elegant and light, blooming in your sea of clouds, picking your favorite heart in my pink core.
The beautiful sentence is long, the wind blows gently, the valley is shallow and soft, the moonlight fills the air, and the veils dance, but whose shadow is elegant, caressing the whispering of branches and leaves, shaking the dust, yearning, faint, clear, lotus skirt, Shanshan, fragrant wind, caressing the thin shadow and swaying to screen out the long-cherished wish of missing stars.
The past is lazy, the moon is here, the wind gently shakes the leaves, the early autumn evening is whispering, and acacia is worried. Who can be comforted? It's still early at night. Who stays up? The moon hurts my heart and tears. I'm alone, thinking or breaking. The moss turns into snow late, and the flowers don't fade, but I forget to do it. I can't find a thousand cities. Tao is reincarnation, and I forgot about Sichuan.
Farewell to the song of Nanshan, I deeply love it. Autumn wind blows pearls, water lilies are in full bloom, and the dust in September is dyed red with carmine tears. Face-lifting, fat poetry, singing early spring with one piano, full of poetry and painting, dripping with nectar, if the water is 3,000, just take a ladle of water, lightly hold the Song poetry, the jade inkstone, the lonely snow shadow, the peach blossom, the chilling window, the agarwood, and Qin Qing are drunk all over. Singing it rained, purple smoke curled up, dancing in the moonlight and getting drunk by the breeze. ...
The moon shines in the deep courtyard, and the people in the secluded path have not returned. When you play an old song lightly, the flowers are also sad. The past is vivid, and spring returns to the earth. Yao Si, the bright moon is still speechless, pointing to Sandy, can't finish playing with her heart. Liang Xiao is lonely, ChanJuan is lonely, clear and soft, acacia is flowing, melancholy is lingering, tears are flowing, and tears are cold and cool. The night is cold, the birds are whispering, and the soft breeze is dazzling.
There is nothing in a beautiful sentence. If you want to spend it, you will be speechless. Who will send the breeze and the bright moon and leave the capital empty to bury flowers? When I met you, plums cleared the dust first, and the south of the Yangtze River was misty and rainy. A piece of pure white and delicate snow propaganda, like flying flowers and smoke, gently knocks on each other's hearts. Deep in the Millennium Hutong, the wind returns to the bamboo language, and a glance under the umbrella of 24 bones looks like an old friend returning home. From then on, I fell in love, September, and fell in love.
Full moon flowers, swaying wind, a cold moon lamp, yellow leaves flying, drunk and dreaming, red cinnabar tears, condensation rain on the moon, dusty wind, blue flowers, cold flowers and autumn millet, all eyes are not bad, alone on the West Building, the stars are shining, it is difficult to warm the face, it is difficult to double the single shadow, frost and snow, beauty fu, peach blossom wine, snow. There are thousands of Qian Shan and graceful flower shadows. ...
Beautiful sentences are delicate and soft, holding a few handfuls of water. A farewell song will break the string and funeral music will be played. After a lonely night. Clear ink and full pen readings remain unchanged. Wet red hate ink shallow seal topic, want to solve tears. Turn your heart to the wind and write down your inner thoughts. Gaunt and damaged, how much prosperity and red buttons, Iraqis are getting thinner and thinner. The crescent moon shines on the west wing like a hook, so the pillow is sleepless and the night is cold. There are thousands of lanterns, and there is no chance of lovesickness. Love words, don't be ashamed of being young. ...
I once wanted to ferry to the Peach Blossom Garden alone, but I didn't want to open a pool of gulls and herons, but I was helpless in the final struggle. I tried to hold a glass of Mei Huajiu and till, raising my cup, I asked the bright moon, but I ended up with a banquet. I wanted to soak in a piece of paper fragrance and live in a piece of pure land, but I wandered in the noise of the ages.
Thoughts and dreams dance in the dust, and butterflies dance in the breeze. Tea adds fragrance, singing partner. I was there when you came, and I was there when you didn't come. Looking forward to the world, sending love to the distance. I hope to spend a lot of time, but I feel lonely. Who is the heart for? Lonely lamp and thin shadow, who is love? A mood and a glass of sake. Eyes full of haggard, heart full of sadness. The porch window is dark and the moon shadow is fragrant.
Beautiful sentence Flower shadows are melancholy, sake invites dreams to drink, clouds hang down, the ice moon bay is cold, the ink and jade beads are dripping, the sun has gone, pink tears are raining, pen and ink sing along, and the beauty is fascinated by the peach blossom dream, but it is empty. I only want to admire Yuanyang, but I don't envy immortals. The flowers and rains are exhausted, and the snow monsters are faint, and the dew is hard to collect. A plum blossom blooms in the courtyard, birds fall on the branches to listen to the broken rain, mottled stars are fascinated by Kazuki Watanabe musician Mo, and they monopolize the enchanting music.
In Jiangnan in October, fireworks are gorgeous, so it's perfect to leave when you say it. On the waterfront of Gui Xiang, stone bridges lie on willows, which should be sunny and rainy. White walls and tiles, pavilions, wine and poetry. Narrow alleys, secluded gardens and elegant courtyards should be carved and sealed. Oil umbrella lamp shadow, porch eaves dripping, should float should be ignored. The purple sand is clear, and the boat is rowing. It should be moving in silence. With light sleeves and full steps, Li Niang looks back and should trace and wipe. Wu Nong's soft words, monthly tune and comment on the piano, should be poured and tasted. Ink and wash style, flowing pictures, should be drunk and dream.
Beautiful sentences guard the pure soul on this shore, trying to bloom fragrance, just to kiss your shock. However, I still smell as good as ever, but I still can't hear your gentle footsteps. You know, the fragrance of this season is only released for you; You know, the charm of this pulse is only enchanting for you; As you know, this year's waiting is only for you to die.
Dreams are far away, and the moon shadow is colder. It's colder than the moon, and the pillow is foggy. In the depths of loneliness, I am as tender as water. That year, I leaned gently in your soft warmth, listening to the whispers of the mountains and admiring the moon. On that day, I held your warm hand tightly, singing the peace of the wind and the joy of dreams. That night, I silently looked at your eyes as clear as autumn water, feeling the beauty and fragrance of love. But it's hard to sleep tonight, and it's hard to do old dreams without new dreams.
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