- Love is a sigh and a puff
of smoke. The flower of love is clothed in a warm coat, but in fact it is so cruel.
I have seen love outside the curtain, under the peony pavilion, I do not know where it rises and goes deep; in a dream of red mansions, three thousand weak water only takes a scoop; inside the rouge buckle, it is like a dream, like an illusion I saw them live for love, die for love, a touch of rouge turned into blood and tears, a drop of blood and tear dyed the butterfly clothes red, and the butterfly clothes came and went, and also fulfilled a dream owed to the future and this life.
Shakespeare borrowed a gust of wind, and when the wind blew up, there were fireworks in the world, and when I passed by, I saw the outline of the ignorant from the fireworks. I call it the contours of love, young Romeo and equally young Juliet, and their love that will die young and never die.
When they met, what did they see in each other's eyes? Why fall in love at first sight? I desperately want to get the answer, may I jump into their blue eyes like a galaxy, and their cold and fiery eyes pass through me like a cold sword like a fireball. I dodged in no hurry, and before I spied, I hurriedly broke free.
I think there must be poison hidden in those eyes, whoever falls in love with someone will die at the hands of whomever. But their hearts hide precious dewdrops, warm sunlight, delicate roses, and moonlight as pure as water. In that little coconut-shaped heart, they almost contain the entire universe. About Juliet, about Romeo, about the whole universe of two people.
Since ancient times, love seems to be unable to escape the shackles that imprison it, just like they can't escape the hatred that is planted under their skin that does not belong to them. The fireworks of hatred have burned the sky, eyes, and hearts. The blood of people who are not sincere cannot quench the flames of hatred, and they return clarity and purity to the world. It makes everything I see bright like heaven, but everything I feel is like dripping blood all over my body, just like being in the Senluo Palace, which is so cold and dark.
Death is like a cold frost that falls before autumn, and finally calms down in trembling. The rose will bloom, but will soon wither, youth is like a blooming flower, and so is the beautiful maiden. At the most beautiful time to meet the favorite teenager, I am afraid that nothing in the world is more fortunate than this. And someone said, "I met a king in this life, and I spent all my luck." There must be no more beautiful love words than this.
There are thousands of gestures in love, and this is not the best one. Only the peach blossom face is locked in the secluded boudoir, unless it is a dream soul coming and going. Throughout the ages, people in the dream have come and gone, left the dream, and returned the dream, but no one dared to wake up the dream. That's all, a hundred years of time are like a dream butterfly, and it's a shame to look back on the past.
Shakespeare wrote this love story with a sigh. He must have sighed too much, so that the smoke of this love was blown in front of the world, and they were all fascinated, smoked, and unable to open it. Because this love carries sadness, love becomes more precious and sweet, just like the bright sun in the cold northern winter, enjoying in pain.
Besides, I can't think of a better ending. The two slept together and went to heaven together. Is there a better ending than this? The world loves sadness. Sadness is always mysterious. Sadness is exhilarating, depressing, ecstatic, and it makes me feel like it was yesterday when I look back on it years later.
Waking up like a dream.
Most of the love is due to just passing by, I say hello, you say disturb.
After a sigh, the person in the dream appeared red dust.
If you fall in love with me, you will die at my hands.
...
to the love of a lifetime.
To Romeo and Juliet.
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