Childhood is childhood! That immature me, that I stopped under the dim street lamp, that I bloomed in the rain, waiting to come back again.
I am a lonely child, forgetting the thin road under my feet, longing for the flowers and the past covered by shadows behind me.
Counting the knots on the rope every day, the shadow of time is reflected on the wall, with a faint yellow layer, which is the yellow of old photos, old books and childhood. The footprints of time are left on the wall, and childhood is left on the stone steps at the feet, which can never come back.
I am a butterfly, lost in the sky, flying quietly.
Who is leading me to fly in the wind? These hands are so warm.
Who leads me to fly in the rain? This voice is so gentle.
Who is it, who makes me so attached and unwilling to fly again?
I am a butterfly lost in time, flapping its wings and looking up gently. Forget the spring flowers, forget the summer tide. I can't fly across the sea, I can't wait for mulberry fields, I can't hear the splash of spring. In time and memory, I forgot the way and deviated from the navigation mark.
Flowers bloom, doors open, and the melody has long been forgotten in my ear. The wind is blowing, wrinkling a pool of spring water and dancing a piece of wheat straw. The sun shines warmly and I fly happily.
The flowers are drunk, the door is asleep, and the moonlight is flowing. The string is broken, the song is broken, who listens? Standing hurts, who mourns with words? The stars reached out and I struggled to fly.
The flowers are not finished, the door is closed, and the kite is hovering by the cloud. After drinking all the wine in Zhongshan, I suddenly looked back and saw that Huayang had gone without a trace. It's the geese coming home again. I'm waiting for Qinghong, but I don't know who I'm thinking, flying in confusion.
It was the rain, the gurgling rain, which wet the door.
It's raining, and the falling rain makes the flowers fly.
The rain broke through the lake in a low voice, and I couldn't fly.
Will not miss, no longer miss, the sleeping lotus pond. Let the wind blow, I can't catch up.
I am a butterfly lost in the starry sky, covered with faint starlight, and I can't forget my sadness. See the moon dim and incomplete, see the moon pull into a full string, see the moon hanging alone in the treetops, and see the moon sink into the sea to shake feelings. I wander in the starry sky, eager to be my true self, and refuse the worldly sitcom. Starlight can't dispel my sadness.
Night always comes and goes quietly. The eyes only see the results, but they can't see that they are always in the process.
Stars bloom like flowers, penetrating layers of fog. Autumn cloudy frost flies late, and it can't hide its smile; A little cold can't erase the silence of its sleepless nights. The stars are in full bloom in the sky, and all kinds of colors come together. Although they are not eternal, they are also long-lasting. They were born in peace, died in glory, and bloomed all their lives.
Stars wander like flowers and fly with the wind. At the horizon, the road deviated from the predetermined direction. Gradually drifting away, drifting away, the angle remains the same, but it has long been far from the end. As time goes on, many people appear in sight, and many people gradually disappear. I look up at the sky and the stars are still smiling. I lost myself under the starry sky, thinking about the songs I once sang.
The stars are as sad as flowers, quietly burying their worries. Tears blurred the light of stars and the fragrance of flowers. There are more and more clouds, the air seems to be full of salty moisture, and the moon also hides in the clouds. That light fell from the sky, quietly, glittering and translucent, and passed away in a flash, like a beautiful smile and a torn wound. Goodbye, goodbye, lotus in the sky! Starlight faded, dawn came, and I was lonely again.
It's rain, it's rain, it dissolves the silver sand under the moon.
It's rain, it's rain, the stars are scattered.
The falling rain, time flies, was drunk by him!
The meteor, like a small white boat, cut the moon and scratched the flowers.
I am a butterfly lost in a dream, sinking in the sunset, waiting for the train that has long gone. Float lightly in the crystal clear water, looking for flowers dissolved in the water. Wet wings are cold and heavy tears. I can't fly. I imagine the flowers in the sky under the starry sky. Maybe tomorrow, I will be the most beautiful flower in the lake and have a blue dream in the blue lake. I will dream of golden wings and take me to fly freely.
Dream, dream! Time abandoned me and hurried forward; The meteor abandoned me and disappeared in an instant. I wandered at the intersection, watching the cars coming and going, and I was at a loss. Childhood, which is gone forever, is like the rain of cherry blossoms, which is heartbreaking. The sunshine of youth is so pale in front of it.
This is a dream! This is a dream! Forget the changes of seasons, forget the vicissitudes of life, indulge in the night sky and don't want to wake up. On the rainy street, Huayang flew away, soaking the fragments of missing and breaking the strings of memory. Gentiana is still in bloom, and on both sides of the Galaxy Railway, it is as simple and brilliant as a star.
Dream, dream! Now I know the taste of sadness, I want to say, but I want to say, but I'm sorry, the flowers are not in autumn! Let the lavender color spread in the palm of your hand, so confused in front of the door. I don't have the courage to push open the half-opened door. Guess the eternity behind the door and lock all yesterday.
It's rain, misty rain, which leads me into the flowers.
It was rain, misty rain, which washed away all the flowers.
The rain sounded, leaving me with flowers all over the floor. A little blue on the cheek is frost on the strings.
I am a lonely child, walking along this thin road to the end of the sky. Miss the flowers in the sleeves and cherish the past covered by shadows behind you.
I am a lost butterfly. The strings are broken, and my tears are like cymbals; The rain tinkled, but I couldn't hear it. How deep is the yard? Silent and empty.
The flowers have fallen, the rain has stopped and the sky is still so blue.
The door is closed, the star is dark, and the knot is yellow.
The dream woke up, the dream was broken, and the fragrance was gone, gone.
I am an ignorant child, stopping in the dim light and looking at the horizon. I'm waiting for the flowers to bloom, and I won't run away from them.
I am an ignorant butterfly, struggling to the end of the horizon in the rain. I'm looking for flowers. I won't run away from the failure of flowers.
Flowers bloom and fall from time to time I just have no choice but to spend time dreaming and sigh. I don't need bees and butterflies, I don't need flowers to turn into honey, I just want to fly to the end of the day with flowers.
After all, where is Xiangshan?
Outside the window, the flowers are dancing freely, just like in a dream, the rain is falling and drifting aimlessly, like melancholy. There is no way for the geese to cross, and Ran Ran flies down Tingzhou.
Is it better to know nothing than nothing? Are ignorant people happier than wise men and sages? I don't know, but I think so.
The world of adults is so boring! No dreams, no flowers, no laughter. Adults can't see the wonder of the sky overhead, the smiles of the stars and the warm blessings of countless little bells ringing in the night sky. They would rather be busy for the so-called "livelihood" every day than watch the sunset, but complain that life is boring. They lose their true selves, but complain that others don't understand them.
Adults lose their little happiness, pursue worldly fame and fortune, and forget the flowers that once bloomed. They accused me of living in a world I made up all day. I just replied faintly, "At least I'm being myself." Live in the world with your true self and have a clear conscience.
Adults don't understand children. Live like a child, not for arrogance, but for being yourself. The night gave me black eyes, and I want to see the light with them. Time has given each of us a sunset once a day, and how many people stop?
Live Like a Child is not so much an ethereal dream as a helpless dream.
A nightmare that people can't extricate themselves!
Flowers bloom in dreams, and I wait for geese in childhood. Why can't you go back when you grow up? Why are "human feelings" often full of hypocrisy and numbness? Why can't I get rid of the shackles like a child, Wan Li with the wind, and find that fragrance again?
It's a flower in a dream, and I'm waiting for my childhood to come back. Golden light is in my heart, and I follow my memory to find flowers. But the door of time has long been locked, and I have lost the fleeting years. So helpless, so unwilling, but unable to change
Flowers will bloom again, but childhood will not come again. I looked at the horizon and stubbornly waited for the door to open again.
Even if that day never comes.
When can I see flowers again? Looking at the gorgeous colors that extend to the end of the distant sky, I fall in love with the past covered by shadows behind me.
I've been missing these flowers! The wind messed up my hair and mixed it with flowers.
What time are you coming back? What time are you coming back? Tears ask flowers silently, and red flies over the swing.
How could I forget? How could I forget? Under the sad bridge, the spring waves are green, which used to be a stunning photo.
Lost, attached, unable to let go ...
Just wait for the flowers to bloom in the dream, let the butterfly fly out of the sea, and the powerless wings dissipate in the haze of the world.
Just wait for the dream to blossom, even if the wild geese fall in the sky, cold tears will cover the pale cheeks.
You can shorten it a little.