月缺为诗,月圆为画。和煦的春风撩起季节的裙袂,吹起天空中灰蒙的尘粒,而后缓缓飘落。眼睛无奈地被窗前的阳光灼烫着,笔下泼墨,渲染着光阴的漫长。夏日里,檐下听雨,池塘观荷;秋日里,落叶纷飞,凭栏赏月;冬日里,山河静寂,悄听雪落。唯有你来,春暖花开,桃红柳新,仿佛四季中的早晨,万物生灵呈现出勃勃生机。 Months for poetry, full moon for painting. Warm spring lifted the skirts of the season, blowing dust in the sky dust, and then slowly falling. Helpless by the window in front of the sun burning with hot, ink ink pen, rendering a long time. Summer, under the eaves to hear the rain, the pond concept load; autumn, the leaves flying, by virtue of the moon; winter, mountains and rivers, quietly listening to the snow. Only you, spring, pink willow, as if the four seasons of the morning, showing animated vitality of all things.