煙花開盡，夢隨風

碧落千尺潭水，落英繽紛，回璇在半空中的花瓣，與指尖怒放出的感謝纏綿悱惻，玉蘭指輕捻落紅，從袖口拿出絲綢手絹，包住花瓣，放於鼻間輕嗅，忍不住一聲嘆息，浮生若夢，虛幻一場，自古紅顏多薄命，亂世桃花逐流水，只可惜，落花有意隨流水，流水無心戀落花，千脂凝淚，低吟淺唱，紅韻詩謠，若花開只有一季，又有誰堪摘，若紅塵只如一夢，又有誰堪憐？

牡丹花，隨風盪，紫幽蘭，沁芳香，戶庭塵埃落定，虛室有餘閑，倚花照海，青花瓷器，天青色等煙雨，清韻化蝶，臨摹仿宋字體，繪如相濡以濕的畫圖，以神來之筆，臨描出青花的雅緻，一隻白色錦鯉躍於碗底，一對鴛鴦戲水於芙蓉葉下。

小軒閣內，香爐子上，裊裊檀香，縈繞楦窗，風拂動垂下的簾幕，飄然搖擺不定，纖弱的手腕無力地托起下巴，看到往日不曾看到的憂傷，是誰家瀟湘女子坐於梨花雕木案上青燈光暈下，素手輕研墨汁於墨硯，層層疊開的細膩墨浪，蔓延在指尖的溫存，印染墨香墨色唯美雅韻，筆尖點墨，凝望江頭，蘭舟催發，回首，倒影在宣紙上的柔光，舒暖的照入素顏，落筆輕游，以普實無華的文字，飽滿溫馨浪漫的感情，抒寫著她關於粉蝶之戀的傳奇，靜靜地房間內，只有筆與紙摩擦挲挲的聲音，不到半馨柱香的時間，一紙閑情絢爛躍然跳動紙上。

The blue sky and the water in the blue sky fell to the sky. The petals in the air lingered with the gratitude from the fingertips. The magnolia fingertips were red and light, and the silk handkerchief was pulled out of the cuffs and wrapped in the petals and placed between the nose. Can not help but a sigh, a dream, a fantasy, since ancient times, more thin life, troubled the world peach by water, but unfortunately, falling flowers intentionally with the water, water without love falling, thousands of fat tears, low-lying shallow singing, Hongyun Poetry, if the flower blooms only for one season, who will pick it up again, if the red dust is only a dream, who will feel compassion?

The

Peony, with the wind swings, purple orchids, aromas, household dust settled, there is spare time in the virtual room, the sea of flowers, blue and white porcelain, sky blue and other rain, Qing Yunhua butterfly, Linyi imitation Song fonts, painted like In the wet drawing, with the brush of God, Pro describes the gracefulness of the blue and white flowers. A white brocade leaps to the bottom of the bowl, and a pair of filth plays under the leaves of hibiscus.

The

In Hsiao Hsin Court, on the incense burner, the sandalwood smashed, and the curtains lingered around. The wind swayed down the curtains. The waved wrists lifted their chins and saw the grief that they had never seen before. The Xiaoxiang woman sits in a pear blossom wood case on a blue light halo. She is lightly crafted with ink in ink and ink, the fine ink waves layered on top of it, spread in the tenderness of the fingertips, and the ink and fragrant ink color is the only aesthetic rhyme, nib and ink, staring Jiangtou and Lanzhou evoked their hair and looked back. They reflected the soft light on rice paper, and they warmed up to the plain face. They took a pen and sneaked to the light to express their feelings about the love of butterflies. Legend, quietly in the room, only the sound of a pen and paper rubbing, less than half the time of Xin Zhu Xiang, a piece of paper jumped and jumped on the paper.

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