What a satire inequality, the heart tired, see tired, buddhist courtyard, incense, no noise. There is equality of all bodhi scattered in every walking devout heart of compassion, inward-looking, ask the combined. Sleep with the moon and sun, and the Buddha of hand. To fade gradually, gradually no longer delusion, but a beautiful dream, when waking up,  starting point again.
 
A life, as many bird migration, occasionally, in the end did not return. My fo mercy, that gently a smile, let her understand a lot of things. No longer persistence, no longer regret, no longer sigh, beauty, then let it go, the old things like flashy, drop again, but is also flowing east dies.
 
Beside qinhuai that year, the woman, like a bright fireworks over the Ming and qing dynasties, in evidence in the historical books. Their little smile, their intelligence, their song and dance, along with their love, is inscribed in the hearts. With admiring eyes, turn to read the story page.
 
I hope the afterlife, their landing guileless, a tree of flowers, a Dutch hoe, simple and shallow action time, and 'no longer entwine, no longer gone with roaming. To find a lover, do a pair of ordinary couples fly wing to wing.