Dan k sigui
Those forgotten years, who opened the curtain.
How many dreams there are in the flower season without rainy days.
The lips dyed the story red and melted the bitterness of the teenager.
Tighten the wheel of history, but time never stops.
Those lost days, dusty glass.
Through our world, we can't cross the lonely river.
The sun hid behind the dark clouds, and the maple leaves cried all over the floor.
Who is writing about life? The opening is so bleak.
Who soothes the soul with love and paints the ending red?