I am a garden.
There is a legend of half a tree in me.
Sometimes, the morning light flies over my head, like flowers in April.
I'm reading the legend about the other half of the tree.
I haven't heard the song in the distance.
However, I must leave and fly.
As the life of a tree, I have the heart of a bird.
This is my sorrow.
It is also doomed that my gentle eyes will shine with melancholy light.
One day, I disappeared from the earth. What would I write?
Your late tears
Your late tears can't be put in the cup of my life.
But it has been flowing in the wind of the years.
About love, it is like a war.
One morning when I suddenly woke up in Yuanmingyuan.
1840, a fire, a brilliant elegy
All this is not far from yesterday.
A bird walked into the dusk in the boundless autumn grass.
Just like a memory, it always disappears behind and there is no turning back.