Let heart

Let heart, on duty that night on the way, I went downstairs. The Moonlight is a little fuzzy, I can’t see the stars. The gentle wind messed up my hair, and the air was filled with agitation. I heard the faint resentment of the rose and smelt the slight sadness in the wind. Alone, walking in the dark night, my heart is very empty. I said, my heart is a little barren. Otherwise, why does it become so empty? My friend said Dai Wangshu had a similar description, which was called The Joy of loneliness. Yes, a person’s loneliness may be a kind of sad beauty, and a certain moment is a different feeling under a certain state of mind. But I still want to get rid of this faint depression. I guess I am should go out for a trip or read some books carefully, just like what my friend said, at least one of my heart or body is on the way. What can be done is to choose to read. All I need is a cup of newly brewed Laoshan Green, a song of Yunshui Zen played by guzheng, let my heart go on. And this is destined to be a personal trip. I read Xu Zhimo, Yu Dafu, Nalan rongruo, Cangyang jiatuo, classic prose of Tang and Song poems, and even Stendhal. Shuttling through time and space, sometimes the heart will cry, sometimes the heart will be tired, sometimes the heart will be suddenly enlightened, and sometimes the heart will calm down. The Heart Walks in Cambridge, and everything becomes tranquil and pure. Understand that only when a person faces himself alone can he find his true self. So loneliness is not terrible, and you can even enjoy it. Xu Zhimo also said that to understand a person, one must have the opportunity to face it alone. -Granted. Take off the mask, you and I have to get to know each other again. And life is like this, forcing us to hide ourselves. It is not that we are willing to do so, but the helplessness of reality. Only when you face it alone, you say, I, now, have my makeup removed. I like you after removing makeup, honest and gentle. I firmly believe that this is the exchange of Hearts. Nalan rongruo and Cangyang jiatuo are both men like poems. Wandering in warm words, their hearts become soft. I admit that I appreciate talented men and desire to recite poems and Fu with them. If you have no intention of finding someone composing poems and lyrics at leisure, it will be even more surprising to me. Many cold, cold and warm nights, I knocked on the keyboard silently, letting joys and sorrows pass through the fingers, growing up short sentences randomly and standing quietly in the years. Nalan rongruo, I like it for many years and have never changed my original heart. I sigh with emotion that if life is just like the first sight, it is amazing that gambling books have been poured with tea fragrance, and now I only say that I was wrong at that time, sigh in Chuncong to recognize the flying butterfly. The gentle man has his own heroic feelings. Did Nalan rongruo ever leave the customs all the way to Hu youkangxi and write down the heroic words and sentences of thousands of tent lights at night? Cangyang jiatuo, the sixth lama of the reincarnated Lingtong, had you ever expected that someone would like him ardently after 300 years? And all this only comes from his poetry. I would rather believe that he wrote to my beloved girl than analyze too rationally whether he wrote love poems or Buddhist sentences. I firmly believe that Cangyang jiatuo, a man full of sorrow, is just like Nalan rongruo, but the thinker of the world’s frustrated life, he has love, hate and barriers that cannot be surpassed. The delicate mind was written down, leaving the descendants only the gradually distant back image that could not be reached. Unfortunately, history only hesitated, and you and I had already missed thousands of rivers and mountains. I am disconsolate guest in the world, I know what to do with tears. I believe I am understand it. Just like a scenery standing in time for thousands of years, at the moment I faced it, I knew you had waited for me for hundreds of years. Although it is only faced with words, and the time is not right and the place is not right, I don’t think this is a disaster. Buddha said, there is no tree in Bodhi, and the mirror is not a platform. There is nothing in the past. Where is the dust dyed? All encounters are not accidental. Everything has the truth of existence. Let nature take its course and listen to the arrangement from the heart. Flowers bloom when own fate unintentionally, cloud Cirrus easy at own chongrubujing. Therefore, the heart was open-minded, no longer entangled, no longer unnecessary sorrow. I’m tired, so I sort out the journey and have a rest. Tomorrow, the future, let the heart, on the road. Like (prose editor: drops of ink become wounds) the snow in spring

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