Love Stories: The Whispering Flowers of the Zither
Love blooms without warning, deep and unwavering. Thoughts drift like endless waters. The most challenging emotion to describe is longing—a sentiment shared across two hearts, each in solitary sorrow.
Every sigh and frown, every tear, bridges the gap between hearts miles apart. A brief encounter leads to enduring longing. Where can one find solace under the moonlight? Seasons pass, yet a heart remains steadfast, its devotion poured into the zither.
The melody enchants, echoing like flowing water, recalling a night of flowers and moonlight. Willow branches brushed against faces as vows were whispered, two hearts entwined. But after the farewell at the pavilion, the autumn waters bear no trace.
Only a lingering warmth of longing remains, lost in the dreams of yesterday.
An empty heart, a faint melancholy—gazing southward, where endless waves shimmer, water flows, its rhythm like a mirage, stirring dreams like a rainbow, enchanting the spirit.
What defines true love? The truest love is found in longing. The zither resonates with the entanglement of past and present lives, stirring futile longing, only to part in the end.
On a beautiful night, flowers whisper secrets, each word striking a chord within. The totems of flowers and moonlight sketch a poignant romance, making one weary for love’s sake, growing thin without regret.
Love flows gently, feelings stretch far. Love is eternal, longing everlasting! Just as if a separation were predetermined, what of the myriad torments? This heart, tender and yearning, burns with longing, consuming the days of spring, transforming into a cloud full of charm, drifting in the star-studded Milky Way, watching the youthful beauty of the past, witnessing once-glorious times…
Don’t speak of heartache; where can one find hope? Longing can be an “art.” Longing with restraint is deep affection; without restraint, it’s torment—impossible to sever, difficult to unravel. How many years can one endure? From this point, a dream of wandering knights in Xiaoxiang; longing is better than remembering.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
