Tears ask flowers silently, and red flies over the swing. The peony doesn't bloom, the flowers are pale, and the butterfly flies alone. Where can I find it?
There are no * * * flowers, even this bright flame of love, is there only ashes? With you, lingering, separated from heaven and man, miserable.
Spring has gone and spring has come, and there are endless thoughts, and old feelings are like dreams. This situation is hard to chase, so it is better to go home.
You can fold flowers straight, don't wait until there are no flowers.
Forever and ever, there is an end, but this endless sadness is endless.
There are infinite painters in the world, and a piece of sadness can't be painted.
Don't miss each other as a symbol of our love.