& lt& lt window >>
When the young trees in the courthouse first spit out the green meaning of life,
I am still ignorant at the window.
Everything in my eyes is clear,
Clear as jealousy in memory,
Only scratch fragmentary traces on the silk of the years.
I don't understand dreams, but the road by the window is the future.
Small trees are blooming, which is a bright color of spring.
I stood on tiptoe at the window, looking up at the sky and the universe.
I wonder if I have a pair of eyes. When I look up, I am also staring at the land where one party has never set foot.
At first, I could carve some vivid colors in my mind.
At first, the tender leaves of exploration sprouted in my heart.
But I always don't want to go forward, I don't want to leave my window, and I don't want to leave the shelter from the wind and rain.
I don't remember how old this little tree is.
It's like I don't remember how long I've been away.
I forgot the reason why I left and the significance of my visit.
Only the voice in the ear, forward, forward.
How far the road is, there are still a few bumps in the future.
Or forward, forward, forward.
I gradually gathered at the window,
Hazy, cowardly, brave, contradictory,
This is the whole me in Qian Qian, a complete me.
The end of the road began to appear, illusory and real,
The starry night sky is calling me to make unremitting progress.
The road shrouded in fog may be a chasm or an endless Qian Shan.
Maybe it's my window, the cradle of my dreams.