Years remind people to be old, and in plain days, they are doing their usual self because of confusion, helplessness, sadness and helplessness. In a time when they are alone, they burn a scroll of sutras, listen to a tune of light music and taste a cup of tea, and look at each other with their hearts. How many times they want to be cruel and give back like others, how many times they think they might as well compromise like this. Life is just like this, but the soft heart is always crisp again after peace, bringing forth the idea that it is not easy for others, but they think that the other is also a poor person, but they are the most pitiful.. Sitting on the stairs in April, enjoying the scenery others passed by, the egg yolk, the tree green, the pink, the pear white, the grass green and the spring breeze infinite good. I can only stay in my own city and watch Jiangshan so many beauties from screen to screen. Following the fragrance of mud and grass all the way, I have kept spring in my brow, hoping that one day, in the earthly corner where fireworks are flying and birds are singing in the morning, it will be good to be calm and peaceful.. I love Wang Wei’s poem more than Lin Weiyin’s April Day: I will walk till the water checks my path and then sit and watch the rising clouds. That’s the free and easy way after the great joy and the great sorrow, giving up. Along with the water, until the end of the water, sit down and look at the clouds and clouds all over the sky. The worldly distractions outside the landscape are already beyond the past life. Zen sitting makes a cut of clouds, no matter where they come from, they don’t know their way home and bathe with heaven and earth.. The night wind was green and a person was walking along the wet path. The sky was still gray after the storm, like rain would still hit at any time. The green trees on both sides swayed its young posture and there were a few red circular flowers among the green leaves, which could not help but gently pat down to avoid disturbing its heart which had just been destroyed by the wind and rain.. Pedestrians on the road, two or three, seem to be returning home and wandering around. The city keeps passing people every day, and may have to wait for the next cycle before it can really meet. Some people, some things, will only meet in the dream.. Month to the heavenly heart, return, calm down, open a prajnaparamita door, make a pot of light tea, and drunk tea in your dream. A stick of weak water is scooped up, water and ink are splashed, a volume of landscape painting is sprinkled, a few sad words are expressed, the vicissitudes of the years are drunk, only a quiet, a meditation is sought, a smile is sought, time is forgotten, living in the present and waiting for the full moon..