snow will soon come

I am the autumn trees, a burning passion, burning life in the autumn maple.

Autumn is my most beautiful season. I made it through the long winter, walk through the warm spring, hot summer, finally ushered in the bright autumn's mellow. In the season for me, I began to spit passion, enjoy the flowers beautiful, free to expose a quality suggestive of poetry or painting.

Frost, my savings and blood a year of passion, act recklessly and care for nobody to sprayed on leaves, let to make stained storied, valley red, let people experience a bloodstained glory. My leaves, such as the flame burning mission, together with the passion, rising confidence.

I'm not in the spring and flowers are beautiful, not with the fruits of autumn than shape for incense. I use the leaves to create a mood and the out of the ordinary, expressing a red legend. Spring flowers dominate, dominate the autumn leaves. Ye Yihong yellow color to the high mountains and lofty hills, the earth covered with a piece of beautiful autumn. My beauty is grand and magnificent, be struck with fright, shaking heaven and earth.

My beautiful beautiful, the sunset inferior. But be riotous with colour chrysanthemum and I share a clear, bright, Mature autumn, release the fragrance, give color golden, white, red, green, purple and so on to fall, and my warm color gain by contrast, a compose the autumn of life the most beautiful music.

I am not a poet, but my passion has inspired poets, Du Mu "Shuangye red flowers in February" verse, is my spiritual resonance, is praise for my life, is the maple leaf sentiment sublimation. In the midnight, Suzhou City Hanshan Temple at midnight the bells, the poet Zhang Jiceng caused infinite melancholy drift Tianya, left through time and space, the Millennium immortal poems.

I am not a painter, but artists have to pay, I sigh for sigh, regard with special esteem, stood staring at, freeze frame boundless solidification, on paper. They apply to arbitrary, rendering, vague, abstract, realism, painting styles, features. Photographers who came all the way, with pike artillery, the myriads of changes of angle, I kept pushing, taken out emotional masterpiece. Or quiet, or bold, or the atmosphere, exercise one's inventive mind, create new styles.

Thanks to the earth to raise graciousness, let me gain a better than the February flower leaves, with tens of thousands of full of wit poet, painter, photographer.

Peaches and plums do not have to talk, yet the world beats a path to them. Maple does not say, also seikei. Praise always love to work quietly success.

Many people have been fascinated by the scenery, I indulge in pleasures without stop, even crazy epilepsy. I have to stay awake, because I know the perfect, beautiful is not lonely, cold and desolate. How many years of experience has already let me mature, let me be quiet indifferent. I have enough strong, tough, unrelenting pressure to snow, cold wind wantonly.

The next spring, I and the earth to awaken, to start a new life cycle, after many hardships: endure long spring drought, summer sun baked, accept come unexpectedly hail forging. But I will stick to this piece of parenting at the foot of my land, take root deeper, farther, more, to take the initiative to find, absorb moisture, nutrients, trying to grow a tree more hypertrophy of the green, ready to be red, when frost comes, again with the autumn. To write a more mature, more meaningful expressing poem, draw more creative painting.

Life, struggle, dedication at. Even in winter, also cannot go to sleep; even the branches were numbed with cold weather shack, heart can never stop; even if the body into the dust, the soul can never rot.