Funeral flowers

In the cool and dreamy afternoon, I closed the scroll slowly. With a heavy mood, I took back my mind from “Muslim funeral” with difficulty. My heart was tired, tired and conquered, it was crushed and crushed in the falling flowers in April. Looking at the falling flowers in April, I couldn’t help feeling sad. The Breeze buried the flowers, stirring the sadness and grief that I couldn’t calm down for a long time. Outside the window, there are wisps of fragrance, but the flowers slowly fade away. This is a season with bright and sad hidden, and it is spring. However, my heart was too deep. I struggled in “The funeral of Muslims” and fought hard to resist. I still left my soul in that elegant house with bright moon and cool breeze, walking in the Yan Garden of be covered with snow, walking in the winter of the wind, flowers and snow, walking in the desolate cemetery where Liang Zhu Qin’s voice was long and never abandoned, which was the graveyard of Muslims, go and leave it in the era of war-torn homes. Looking at the falling flowers floating far in the stream, like magic, my eyes, my heart and my soul are drifting away slowly. The story is too sad and beautiful to be extricate themselves, as I walked step by step between the lines, I became a visitor in the story, Tze-Ki Hon, Liang Junbi, Liang Bingyu, Han Tianxing, Han Xingyue, Chu Yanchao, one by one, living in front of me, quietly following behind them, watching their life and death, watching their love, hatred, love and hatred in several generations of the world. Ten years of life and death are boundless, not thinking about it, and I will never forget it. The War of the beacon fire and Wolf Smoke slowly went out, and set foot on the homeland of the old country that had been reunited for a long time. The road was long. It was a wrong combination. Ten years saw a person clearly and thirty years learned about life, everything is an illusion caused by too deep love. Use some decisive words so that you can find some spiritual comfort and turn away silently, leaving the right and wrong place alone. From then on, good gathering and good dispersion have become a kind of cover, and this life is doomed to wander alone. It was like a dream. It was a dream, an almost real dream, in which I did not know that I was a guest. I closed my eyes and groped in that society. Unfortunately, they couldn’t hear my voice. I saw that it was an era of jade, and I saw their Muslim faith, I saw the programmatic ethics on their heads. I saw them silently leaving the world and going to heaven garden. I saw that they fought against the disease and also squeezed a cold sweat for them, I see that they have the right to live and love. I also feel sad for their unfortunate fate. I was involved in the entanglement of their stories and couldn’t get away. In that black and white era, I was sad, miserable and tortuous. After decades of return, it was originally mixed with five flavors, thinking about the full of joy and unspeakable emotions at the sight, but everything was different and even the tombstone was gone, what I saw and heard was just a piece of loess in the deserted cemetery and the soft and illusory violin sound of sadness and sorrow under the moonlight. In the dusk, the sound was like a flower & rain in the sky, crying like a complaint, like a dream like a dream, like a little teardrop, a crescent moon rises slowly, which hurts the old heart of the return. My heart is too heavy and my body is too weak. Under the starry sky with little sadness in the moonlight, I can’t stand the pain, accompanied by the long-lasting mournful sound of violin, I struggled to retreat. Like a long journey, I finally came back. However, the flowers in April were falling and falling, and I felt sad in the gentle breeze.

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