Wash and dress with the wind left in the evening,
A little bit, a little touch, a little tint,
The dream that I can't sleep is as unreal as reality.
My dream, your dream,
and his dream,
overlap like a neon,
are picked up by passing insects for no reason,
hang on the birds' lips.
along that morning,
everything's breath was pulled, and
one sound, one wisp, one chun chun.
a small leaf,
stroking the cold in winter like a gibberish,
my thoughts are still steaming.
The mist snickered,
hiding the world again.
The horn of seeking sounds,
The colors of nature are all in chaos, and
Beauty cannot be found.
Even passers-by got wet,
lost in the secret environment left by the morning.
In the morning when you are not tired,
simply blow a drop of flute,
wet the wings of birds,
moisten the flowers on the roadside.
cheerful mornings,
like rain and clouds,
rain is the lace to embellish the mood,
clouds are mischievous letters.
Suddenly,
in the letter,
there was a large golden light,
no wonder it was cloudy,
the sun was working in the distance!