You can easily open me at the slightest glance, although I close myself like a finger, you always open me petal by petal, just like opening (subtly and mysteriously touching) her first rose in spring, or if you want to close me, my life and I will suddenly close very beautifully, just like when this flower's heart carefully imagines falling snow everywhere;
In this world, nothing we can feel can compare with your strong and fragile strength: its texture attracts me with the color of its country, and every breath brings death and eternity.
(I don't know what you are, turn it off and on; The voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses. No one, even rain, has such small hands.
There is a place I have never been, and there is a place I have never been, which is beyond my experience.
When you are happy, there is a silence in your eyes: there are things that can wrap me tightly in your most delicate posture, and there are things that are too close for me to touch.
Even if I close myself like a finger.
Your slightest look can easily open me, one petal at a time, just like opening (touching) the first rose in spring.
Or your wish is to lock me up, and my life and I will be closed. Gracefully, suddenly, it seems that the heart of this flower is imagining snowflakes falling everywhere, carefully;
Everything we understand in this world can't be compared with your tight' slender': that texture forces me with its original color, giving me death forever, with every breath (I don't know if you have the ability to open and close; There are some things in my heart that I can understand. The voice of your eyes is deeper than any rose.