Walking in the park, the grass is green and colorful, and I want to compete. Rockery is also dyed emerald green in spring. The weeping willows on the river bank are like girls whose hair is fluttering in the breeze; Winter jasmine is like clusters, golden and beautiful. In spring, everything is moist, and there is no dryness in late autumn. Looking around, everything looks so beautiful.
It's spring and bloom, and my heart tells me that I really want to go out for a walk. And I, a married empty shell, walk alone by the river, in the fields and in the parks. When I see those people in twos and threes, my heart will always be sad, and tears will always fall on my cheeks and flow into my heart.
The spring breeze came and the cherry blossoms in the park were blown away. Petals are scattered like snow, just like pink and white butterflies flying. In this way, it landed gently on the ground, in the hair of pedestrians, and the road was dotted with bits and pieces. Everything is so messy, everything is so beautiful.
Cherry blossoms are scattered like rain and tears. Look at the pink petals, such as raindrops, so beautiful and intoxicating. Like tears, so sad, like crying.
Seeing this scene, I can't help but think of the scene of Daiyu burying flowers, and the flowers will eventually fade. These petals, no matter how short they stay on the branches and leaves, will be blown off by this ruthless wind and will return to the soil. If there is reincarnation in this world, who knows which reincarnation he is in, and who knows if he will be one of the cherry blossoms? I can't help but think of this poem: "Falling red is not a heartless thing, but turning into spring mud protects flowers more."
People are like flowers, which have their fragrance and wither. The encounter between people, at a certain time and place, seems unprepared, but in this fate, who can tell, who can tell? Explain it with a Buddhist saying: "There is a destiny in the dark."
Maybe that's true, so comfort yourself.
The second emotional prose of Sakura: In the season of sakura rain, I dreamed of you. When dawn came, I decided to face the years. I will wait for whether the next March is the end of my dream. The trees are covered with yellow leaves. They dance like your hair and die like your hair. Finally, I slowly left the boundaries of my sense of smell. I turned and left.
Open, can't bear to crush the years, can't bear to die for your youth. Some people say that it is pain that makes us know our existence. It is also said that a person who has nothing to do with his heart is free and easy without attachments and boundless.
Loneliness. I'm glad I'm in pain. I'm glad, too. I'm worried. I finally don't have to wear glasses to find my transparent body, and I finally don't have to face endless loneliness.
If you are a person, you don't have to use up your body temperature to melt the sadness that didn't fade yesterday. When my heart remembers you, when you slowly walk away and tear a heart standing in place to pieces, I find that I am only tied to your distant footsteps. Only to find that when I can't see your back, my heart aches faintly. I realized that I was still lonely, like a withered grass at the end of the world, looking up at the lonely star and the waning moon. He laughed at me for being stupid, called me stupid, and said that I was his idol, neither too hot nor too cold, and then plunged into his martial arts. I left him with a smile. She told me to go back and crush the yellow on the ground, and then pick the leaves of another season. I am silent, anyway, I have to wait for a winter to face a youth engraved with several desolate places. It may take a lifetime to forget, and it may be better to wait, so I will wait. She was silent. Like a person's day, fall in love with a person's night. I also told her that if you are lonely, go to the stars for company. She also called me stupid. I was shocked, too. I don't believe a dusty heart can weave innocence. I said: I have never been bored, because I can think that having a person worth thinking about is also a kind of happiness. She didn't speak. I don't believe that such words will make people move. I thought the world was so big that I found that I could see the smile in my dream inadvertently. I once thought how broad my heart was, only to find that there are really few things that can be accommodated except you. I laugh at her, don't forget someone deliberately, and don't wipe that wound with a cotton ball every day, it will only make you cry. She doesn't believe it. I can't shake off her stubbornness. It turns out that others are different from me. She said, You are such a fool. In fact, I just want to look back when you leave, and this seems to be an extravagant hope. Because you said that we had never met, how could we talk about parting? No, we have met. I shouted loudly and forgot the pain in my heart. However, where is the parting intersection? I rummaged through my memory pocket and found that there was very little about us. I can only sit still and sweat crazily.
On the ground, like a pile of dust. So, I brushed away the blooming night, opened my dry eyes and looked for the intersection. When I found it, I found it was deserted, and I couldn't see the trace of your walk. At dawn, a drop of dew slipped into my palm. I put my hand close to my eyes, where it can't reflect your face, it's not your tears. Looking at the road that is not the road, I woke up. It turns out that I have never been here. Did yesterday's tears become today's hay? I stood there and let my heart go through centuries, reliving the beauty of past lives when you and I looked back. I want to cry. I said: I am waiting for the rainy season in bloom. No one will accompany me in the cherry blossom season next year. She said: Next March, I will accompany you to see Wu Da in sakura rain.
The emotional prose of Sakura III: Love of Sakura Flowers, elegant and refined, but slightly melancholy. Just like pure and beautiful white porcelain, it is as light as a cicada. This delicate fragrance and gorgeous beauty belong only to first love. March dream, cherry blossoms and snow, agreed to be hurt.
Dragging my tired body back to the dark and humble room, I didn't even want to turn on the light and threw myself directly on the sofa. The cherries in my hand are scattered all over the floor. Although it took a long time and was baptized by rain, the fragrant flowers gradually came with sleepiness.
Pink snow is flying in the air, heart-shaped cherry petals fall in your white hands, and the pink face can't hide the pure beauty.
You are jumping, as if to turn into a butterfly and fly, leaving that fragrance in your heart; You are flying, capturing the beautiful scenery in front of you. You are looking at the scenery, but he is looking at you. He gently calls your name, and you can't help but want to jump into the warm sunshine of the boy in white. You smile like a flower, just waiting for the breeze.
Good times, don't live up to your youth. But he suddenly disappeared like a ghost.
With a flick of your finger, you will be confused. Cherry blossoms turn to dust. You're scared. You keep looking back. Sakura Road has become a forest. Dense trees block out the sun. Darkness hangs over you.
The vines of fear grow in the atrium. You cry, longing for a pair of eyes in the dark to find light for you. You stretch out your hand to touch it, but there is a slight pain in your fingertips, and you feel sticky liquid flowing from your fingertips. Thorns all the way, but I can't stop you.
Stumbling and ragged. There is a faint light shining in the distance. It must be dawn. You trust your heart. But your body is extremely tired. You long for a comfortable bed, so that you can sleep longer than the end of time.
Getting closer and closer to the light. You smell fragrant cherry blossoms. The pleasant smell makes you want to relax and slow down. One big step, one small step, one big step, one small step, one small step ... Your eyes become extremely heavy. When that touch of red comes into view, the cherry blossom fragrance at the tip of your nose takes you like a dream.
A wisp of cherry blossom fragrance haunts me I opened my hazy eyes and found myself curled up on the sofa. The painful body tells itself that it seems to have run a long, long way. The cold moonlight shone through the white glass window and fell on the smooth floor.
Pick up the flashing mobile phone, it's already half past two in the morning. Open the mobile phone information, unknown letter from Beijing yesterday:
If the flower is pitiful, it will fall on whose fingertips. I wish I could become a breeze and give you a wisp of fragrance. May you be well, and when I come back, I will return your endless cherry blossom dream.
Although it is unknown, I know it is you. But I never knew that you left school and went to Beijing without graduating from high school. I have mixed feelings in my heart.
Put the phone down and walk to the balcony. Although it is early spring, it is still cool after midnight.
The bright moonlight is very cold. Although the rain has stopped, the air is filled with the smell of rain, mixed with the sweetness of cherry blossoms, so that a soft watercolor painting of cherry blossom path flashes in wet eyes. Like a dream.
Ten years ago. Cherry blossoms are particularly enchanting. Because my parents divorced, I just transferred to another school and stood at this strange bus stop, helpless, but the cherry blossoms fluttering in the wind gave me a familiar feeling. That day, the first day of school, I also met you, the boy in white.
The bus is about to leave, so hurry to catch it. Stand by and watch me Crowded carriages, swaying, you and I looked at each other awkwardly, and I smelled the sweet smell of cherry blossoms on you. You are short of breath. I held my breath.
Stop the car. I didn't know you were in my school until I got off the bus with you. You fly to the basketball court like the wind. Long bangs fluttered in the air, and the sunshine smile lit up the darkness.
I was ranked in the penultimate row by the old class teacher, by the window, and I could see the playground, your figure and cherry blossoms through the glass window.
The bell arrived as scheduled. But the seat behind me is empty. After the class teacher nagged for half a class, you stood at the door sweating. The head teacher glared at you, but you laughed when you gave up because you hated iron and gave up.
You were reprimanded and returned to your seat. I still look out the window. You didn't say a word to me.
Life is unremarkable. Cherry blossoms are in full bloom, thanks and thanks. I didn't make any friends in class, but you are a heartthrob. Countless love letters and gifts are put in your drawer from time to time, but you always throw them on my desk when I'm not looking. I threw it in the trash without even looking. Then I only gave you a white eye, but you always showed those two tiger teeth and laughed it off.
Sometimes, no matter how beautiful the cherry blossoms are, if there is no willing heart, then she can only enjoy herself, and the rest is only self-pity. Only empty tears will be deeply cherished, sentimental and reminiscent of other years.
You were absent in the last month of graduation.
The old class said, "It's a waste of time to drop out of school without learning or skills."
A familiar figure flashed through the window.
At that moment, I ignored everyone's amazing eyes and ran out.
I ran to the bus stop, but you got on the bus. I ran away, just like when I met you.
But the car didn't stop, and you didn't see me. I walked back alone, cherry blossoms scattered all over the floor, and I burst into tears unconsciously.
That afternoon, the evening was beautiful. I sat in my seat and saw a line engraved on the table:
You are looking at the scenery, but the people who look at the scenery are also looking at you. Five years.
I don't admire myself The scenery is not only me, but also you. Is five years an agreement or ...
After graduation, I embarked on the road of drifting north alone, where there were no dreamlike cherry blossoms.
For the boy in white in my dream, every year when the cherry blossoms are in full bloom, I will go back to the place where I first met. But I can't wait for your endless return.
The tenth year. I still want to meet a boy in white and smile in the sunshine under the cherry tree.
But outside the dream, whose scenery have you become?
The night is still early, and the cherry blossoms are fragrant. The lover is not full.
Emotional Prose of Sakura IV: Encountering sakura rain