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deaconcps
Wysłany: Pon 13:57, 16 Maj 2011
Temat postu: Faces of the people do not know where to go
Who is in a shadow
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, who is who in the wheel of life. Past dust, present and future of wind, endless soul is sad, the last man left a sung through the ages,
- Inscription
colorful language
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, obsessed, obsessed characters of precision, but also mildly obsessed with subtle poetry like Nalanxingde of like yin
But in this , Love and be loved,
do not know why, every time this poem, I will have a life changing things are unpredictable from the past, think of that detachment from untold miseries on the poet, the love between lie and death.
Poet Cui Hu opened in the peach farm is exceptionally beautiful small courtyard, sitting in the trees met a young woman embroidered. Dumped in the beauty of the poet unable to extricate themselves girls, shy girls face peach tree is very charming.
So they leave each token to be in the future meet.
as current events change, a year later to visit again when the poet, the helpless door closed, only the hospital of the peach blossom is also undefeated. Asked the young girl suffering from farmers and others that the disease has died Acacia ......
So the poet issued a be loved, Although the poet and
dead woman who, for love is a firm belief that love is a duty-bound spirit. Therefore, to love, they are willing to wait alone. They do not care about the difficulties of determination just by heart, as the migration path of love. Love, in them, not the cruelty and despair, there is no need results and responses are also afraid of loneliness and helplessness. Love, just a heart fit.
precisely because they fit the soul, wait and find the poet struggling not despair, that Iraqis dead, he did not regret his efforts, he did not want to believe that the Iraqis did not dare to face the reality of passing , so he only said that
However, sunlight and shade
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, the rising sun, we come to have been used to turn a blind eye, silent. We are no longer to taste, and not to be considered, not to remember, and not to feel, at this moment how much better quietly disappear from our eyes, just like the ancients left us poetry that one song after another inexplicably moving. We may regret
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, remorse, but all to no avail, as the beginning sound of the soul and with our gratitude to explore carefully in life. In the vast sea of poetry in the mentality of their predecessors Story taste and feeling their emotions.
love life may be a promise can not be compared, there may be a date not yet scheduled. I hope the poet in the
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