Seventeen-year cicada\The water is clear and clear. What kind of secluded darkness will cover the world for seventeen years. What kind of ancient mysterious life will lie dormant for seventeen years. What kind of earth-shattering poetry will brew for seventeen years? Such a short-lived love needs to be looked forward to for seventeen years. What kind of persistent heart can watch for seventeen years? Seventeen years of cicadas' seventeen years of reincarnation. Repeatedly chanting the seventeen years of spring, summer, autumn and winter, it has nothing to do with you. The seventeen years of wind, rain, thunder and lightning portray you. Seventeen years of joys and sorrows cannot touch your heartstrings. Seventeen years of flowers bloom and fall in seventeen years of dreams. Seventeen years of cicadas. A seventeen-year-old boy gives guidance to the country. A seventeen-year-old girl stands like a lotus. The painfully struggling cicada waits for the spring in the night of May of the seventeenth year. What is it that ignites the fire of life that has been dormant for seventeen years? It tears the chest of the mother of the earth like a volcanic eruption. It burns with boundless darkness. The overwhelming life emerges in an instant. Thousands of troops emerge one after another. Hundreds of millions of rock climbers and photographers who arrived as scheduled stood as still as a stone and stood as a tree. The seventeen-year cicada crawled in every inch of the skin. The seventeen-year cicada climbed up the grass, climbed up the small tree, climbed up to the towering tree. Complete the heartbreaking transformation before sunrise. The nightmare wakes up to the boundless spring. The sunshine that I have been dreaming about for seventeen years. How can it not make people burst into tears? The cicadas of seventeen years have no time to dry their tears. Shining and thin as gauze. The wings of the seventeen-year-old cicada are their once-in-seventeen-year feast, and the singing voice that has been muted for seventeen years sings love, sings spring, is obsessed with madness, and is unscrupulous. The seven-year-old cicada has not yet fully sang the praises of life. It is buried in the ferocity and greed of predators. Nothing can extinguish the flame of life. The seventeen-year-old cicada chases the sun and the waves. The cicada's chirping echoes throughout the nine heavens and the world, singing the most intense and gorgeous oath. Come back again in seventeen years, come back again in seventeen years