This is life

[Courtlant]

life poem, recited in every human heart; life painting, depicts the story of everyone; life cantabile, singing everyone's dream.

the moon covered the branches, take off a tired, laid back childhood dreams, to find Liangxiaowucai the chase, frolic. Mouth curved in a dream will laugh out loud. When the moonlight streaming into the wandering of the window, the moonlight like cream, it will bounce wandering homesick heart. Wandering the tears will softly into the moonlight, the moonlight badly fragmented. When the moon walk in front of mother [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], children look forward Yi Men go mother, his eyes flashing with thoughts, his grizzled sideburns ruffles Melancholy, deeply furrowed brow told the moon, how deep the love of mother. In the hands of fingers slide down the needle and thread, an Acacia splashes, burns at both ends of the hearts of all days. This is life, with a sweet, but also feeling of anxiety everywhere.

is also a fall, standing on the highest branches and watch the leaves, or off by autumn. Winston wisp floated the sky, but also in depicting this other story, nothing exciting at the beginning, the outcome is not the same, some were burned in the fiery sunset, autumn, some but was blown, quietly. This is life [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], with frustration, but also a glorious moment.

walking in a strange city, dumped into the cold lonely street. Close proximity between people, very far from heart to heart. Rather bored with a thin cable to the joys and sorrows involved virtual Melancholy [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], do not want to knock on the door next door, really close to the heart. City people dressed in luxurious, leisurely pace without countryman, hurried footsteps, forget the surrounding beautiful scenery. This is life, with a mask, flies full, but also nothing.

dim light, you can not turn back, followed by more darkness. People always believe that the light not far away, so to strive, to struggle. When the hair is gray, when I look back, dim the lights, they are actually good memories. Picked up the memory of a story unfolding. Then pain, then pain, and shake off the ground, the rest is full of vicissitudes of hand, but cozy and warm with the sinking, but do not want to grow old weather-beaten polished heart. This is life, with a dream, a tremendous achievement, but also as warm as spring.

hands of the pen stays in a corner, so that an ordinary heart, to fly decent life. Full stop before you go to every wonderful moment, this is life.