Niu Ming cow, and bark Quanfei, pour a cup of the earth moonlight, a vague bubble lights. We are breathing grew up with the dream of pure decorative embellishment rain dotted the solar wind. Barren at night, with rank Baozhan soft blue sky fantasy painting in the world is always beautiful, no wind, no worries.
mother used for drying Pushan our dream Han, Yan Guo filled with the father of our reverie. Brother go fishing in our fairy tales, the older sister to go to our songs. I hit the water in your Piaodang wave face, you led the kite flying in my sky. Campanula sound, you choose a slope for me, General Leiqi Taiwan, I picked a leaf to make you Qunshan. You hypocritical brilliant 4-year-old me smile, I used the shoulders of 6-year-old bear fat into your dreams. The night wind to illness, you Sesuo a college, I used thin as you circle into a unique landscape.
happiness is always short-lived - unfortunately, when the time comes. On that day, you went into a black day, then on, feeling like an electric saw to be cut from the Sang Sang, the day became night, night long and do not see the light. Cook every word of the day treatment and night, you and I always write about the subject. Chopsticks to stop the window, let go of the tree Phi dawn, the birds are no longer mildly. Hill singing late villages, the wave of smoke into the sky is no longer holding a philosophical change. To move a small house, on the threshold of full sun is no longer, the sun is always the health of the mother's grave hobbled. Wind is also ruthless, relentless rain has every Spring Festival is no longer thick, hung over from Yan Yan's always melancholy.
Falling leaves, Autumn again. General sigh that varying degrees of success, no one could foresee its flowering. More than 2,000 days and nights, I think you will not put up a screen of the word. Can not fold the hand-smoothing, the heart of the deep folds and folds, covered with grass that sprouts every cul-de-sac, out to do a period, continuous stretch it flat. Days are helpless, to have no choice, no longer playing Buddha Zen, Noah's Ark is no longer coming.
journey into the life, love and hate the fetters of the Federation of winding. Ups are not unhappy with the sad, swaying scene in the wind and rain, the Federation of life from another section of the road. The display knows no boundaries, when the oxygen in the air will be generous precipitation during the day is not so far-fetched. The forgotten forgotten on it! But the pain is the tears, but tears of water, the water there was time to air-dry day. Russian oil painting still remember it? Painting on oak tree in the forest have faded in the background when it is still a straight body. Shuangfengqileng days it will not stop for too long, when the full wheat, the crescent must for you, for us to re-hang!
Do not forget to drop Market heap of the setting sun, I will always be in the hearts of the discharge of oil lamps that light, we lit up like Camellia together, living as a song without words, triumphantly long, did not always have the finale.