Extract 300-500 words from beautiful prose! !

At dusk, the snow smells the piano and shakes the red.

Inscription: Meeting you is gorgeous; Approaching you is a new poem; Fate breaks the cocoon and misses you all my life.

Burning candles, holding hands and lowering eyebrows, a song of bosom friends flying obliquely.

When the piano shaft is silent and the melody is not finished, I feel sad, talk about string flowers, and worry about who to listen to. Open the dust note, dye the pen to level the business, and the words are light. A wisp of acacia frowned at the beginning and went to my heart again. In the smoky air, catkins are flying in the air, and the sun is blurred. The symptoms of winter are not winter, which warms the rhythm of winter. Some things are full of affection and elegant. Want to flow, lush ink, only the inkstone is not as good as that small window. Geng tears his throat, and the type is heavy, inviting the bright moon and the breeze to stroke his face, awakening his soul to copy ink and wash.

Leisure in my hometown, listening to branches sliding in Yu Ying and watching butterflies dancing are my hobbies to cultivate nature. Whether it's a snowy winter or a warm spring in a hearty love, whether it's a summer in which the lotus pond swallows waves in the moonlight, or a white autumn in which the maple leaves are frosty in the middle of the river, Cumin walks through the words, caressing the ancient rhyme, infiltrating music and fu, and seeking comfort and tranquility. When I met you, my eyes lit up and I saw you swimming around in the clouds, indifferent to words. A reserved person is not in a hurry to lift his skirt, but hides his inner pulse. Standing in the distance, as far as the eye can see, the lotus steps are strange, a lavender parasol, stepping on the tassel of the oblique wind of the willow at dusk. A woman who walks out of the Book of Songs is full of poetic romance, faint fragrance of poetic rhyme, poetic indifference and poetic power. Your ice, your elegance, your serenity and your wisdom, focus a beam of light and penetrate my abdominal muscles until I am soft.

I don't like dropping in, but somehow, I was driven to your back garden by a mysterious force. Stepping gently on the winding stone path, my eyes were buckled by the rotating neon, and one gorgeous ink painting after another unfolded, floating in the field of vision in the bright moonlight. People who are very happy, soft and firm, like oriental ballet, like the beautiful Swan Lake. Antique, graceful and beautiful words, elegant and realistic life, chic and beautiful. You are ingenious, embroidering Pingshan Qiongyu, crayon human songs, caressing the flute and singing Hunan songs. You outline life with a beautiful and philosophical style, and render the spring and autumn with delicate and exquisite thoughts. I am fascinated by your characters, sighing and bending over for your exquisite brushwork.

Approaching you, it was a sunny night. Thousands of miles away, a glance at the screen, singing a hundred horses, Qin and Han martial arts, eyebrows and songs, singing classical elegance. A little deeper, the flower socket is set off, the candlelight silhouette is still unfinished, and the people in the curtain dream of the fairy tale world, or sing, or sing endless red dust, endless stories between the dust, love at first sight and hate to meet late, sunset red. A star-studded witness, the jade mirror hung high. The jade mirror did not take Taoyuan as an alliance, nor did it burn incense in the Buddhist temple, but put on the coat of "brothers" and locked this life. Time flies, I have never had a drink with anyone, Jin Lan, and I became "brothers" with you for the first time. You are the first and the last.

Meeting you again makes me feel refreshed, full of classics, full of reading poems and full of writing about God. Outside, on the stage of life, you plan and dominate the trend. You look like Qiu Jin, and you don't want a man. Inside, the tall buildings are in the heart, and the top is beautiful, and the beauty is as quiet as a pine. You are weak and refined, dreaming of the Phoenix Terrace, leaning on the willow and caressing the flute at night, what seems to be waiting for? Time is like water. At high tide and low tide, you can travel around the world and read everything about Qian Fan. On the other side of the dusty sea, the past is in a hurry, and the blue is outside the sky.

Stay away from the prosperity, live in seclusion on the peninsula, and listen to the wind and rain. Endless human tragedy, endless human desolation, endless short-lived sorrow, so the heart is locked and the soul is lost. The iron hoof traveled all over Qian Shan, cut through thorns and thorns, cut off his recent visit, traced back to the source for 5,000 years, and whipped him in the Spring and Autumn Period and the Warring States Period.

Meet you at the blue bridge, the moon is bright and the heart is bright, Hualien branches are close, and Yaochi is bright. No matter how the rings turn, no matter how crazy the dust is, I will never leave you and join hands with the sunset red. Along the way, the doctrine of the mean holds the road and never approaches him (her). And you, Lan Xin Huizhi, centered on my pavilion with divergent magnetic force and became a lifelong confidant for the first time. Gentleman's agreement, honesty and mutual trust, sincerity and history, the sun and the moon are like mirrors.

At the moment, the ventricular echo wall whirled the song that once resounded through the north and south of the river:

Shanqingqing

Shuibibi

High mountain flowing water rhyme yiyi

Cry like crying.

Like a sad cry

Sigh is that

A bosom friend is rare in life.

Forever friend

The hardest thing to find

…

At present, it is dusk in Qian Shan. You and I stand side by side in the deep courtyard, listening to plum blossoms through the snow. On the dragon, there are dancing butterflies, left and right, accompanied by flowers Look at the beautiful images reflected by the stream on the shore. The swing is full of waves and charming wind instruments, which makes countless teenagers make eyes at each other and bend over. Holding a basin of sansheng stone, drunk, pieces of red clothes are stained and dancing between your fingers.

It's cold and there is no spring in the western hills, and the water heating flies back.

Time is golden, and time is beautiful. Lean against the fence, live in seclusion in the thatched cottage, and be born elegant. I don't envy the splendor in the dust, the Zhumen in the city, the Green Lantern in Bandu, and feel the pure land.

The spindle was fiddled three or two times, and silence was better than sound.

Pass on the scriptures at each other, and your mind shines brilliantly. Cut it for a while, and you and I will wander on the path, enjoying the fun and dusk.

Put pen to paper and pour gold through the window, staring at the dim and swaying plum blossoms.