A process of landscape and a process of song: Ren Tianming
It's me who turns my sorrow into drunkenness and sleepiness
Still worried and tired with my heart
Poems written by me are not written by me. Poems written by me
If I don't drink, drink if I drink.
When did the sound of shoes become cold with moss?
What is the most likely thing in the world to make you grow old?
Half the frost in my heart, half the shadow of a human being
I am not leaving, the moon is leaving me
I miss my hometown, I miss my hometown
Returning to the past, the red medicine beside the bridge did not recognize people
After all, I was the one who walked the road
The road is still walking me
The wind blows through the west window, and the passengers on the boat are nowhere to be found
It's me who has passed through spring and autumn
Or spring and autumn passed through me
New grass in the river every year looks old from a distance
Late at night, the lonely lamp shines without regret
Looking back at Qingjiang is full of tears
Amorous pat on the shoulder, afraid of seeing the bright moon and losing its green glow
A journey of landscapes and a journey of songs
A flute blows away the cold rain
Dreams gently harmonize wherever the sound of leaves is heard
After all, I was the one who walked the road
The road is still walking me
The wind blows through the west window, and the passengers on the boat are nowhere to be found
It's me who has passed through spring and autumn
Or spring and autumn passed through me
New grass in the river every year looks old from a distance
Late at night, the lonely lamp shines without regret
Looking back at Qingjiang is full of tears
Amorous pat on the shoulder, afraid of seeing the bright moon and losing its green glow
A journey of landscapes and a journey of songs
A flute blows away the cold rain
Dreams gently harmonize wherever the sound of leaves is heard
A journey of landscapes and a journey of songs
A flute blows away the cold rain
Dreams gently harmonize wherever the sound of leaves is heard