Time dark turn, the wheel of the year to add, such as silk flow of years, ripples quietly flow through. Hurried time like a white horse flashing past, blinking has been over the youthful time. Youthful years, ah, fingertips of the flow of years are as if surplus with a wisp of fragrance delicate, but can not top time dark change. At this time, the sky gladly unveiled the veil of winter. In a trance, a year has passed, turn around, a blooming years light as a blip. The word "heart" is mutilated, the love affair is stranded, this wonderful encounter, but is imprisoned in the river of love.
The network in the fate of the meeting, your beautiful figure into my world, let me think about it. Your song lingers in your ears, fluctuating the heartstrings; your face in front of my eyes, so I can not see the depth of the edge of the edge of the shallow. Gradually like to look up at your face, shy face like a water lily, full in the heart. Gradually addicted to your singing, from your throat humming out of the Yangchun white snow let me y infatuated. Whether it is a light or shallow singing y touched my heart, the song "small tail" sweet sweet, as a gurgling stream, clear and melodious, soft aftertaste, euphony sung out of my youth in the fragrance of lonely sweetness.
Life is a blossoming encounter, a scene of flowers falling away. Or too early to meet, destiny is difficult, or too late to meet, destiny is inevitable, or beautiful and romantic, sadness and fascination! The reasoning tells me that it is impossible, but it can't stop the inner love can't own.
Listening to a song of the first flowers, read a song of love red face. When the loneliness soaked into the heart, the loneliness gnawed at the helpless longing, can not restrain the heart of the sadness. Write just a few words about you, write out all the distant hope and deep feelings, lost in this hundred turns of the warp. It turned into ink, all the sadness and heart lyrical in, should be happy to fly light, but became the Road inexhaustible melancholy. Gradually accustomed to loneliness, accustomed to, a person quietly sitting alone in the light of day, enjoying a mood of simplicity; a person quietly sit and watch the flow of clouds lightly dyed, gathered and dispersed; a person faintly listen to the wind, in their own wind and snow poetry and song to see the clouds and clouds. I don't want to let the world's women to replace your face, breaking the inner chaos.