? When the smoke of ashes sighs the sorrow of poverty
? I still stubbornly smooth away the ashes of disappointment.
? Write with beautiful snowflakes: believe in the future.
? When my purple grapes turn into dew in late autumn
? When my flowers snuggle up to other people's feelings
? I still stubbornly use frosted vines.
? Write on the desolate land: believe in the future.
? I want to use my fingers to stir the waves that rush to the horizon.
? I want to hold the sun in my hand.
? The warm and beautiful pen flickers with the dawn.
? Write with a child's pen: believe in the future.
? I believe in the future.
? Yes, I believe that people's eyes in the future
? She brushed away the eyelashes of history.
? She has a student who can read through the years.
? No matter what people think of our rotting bodies.
? Those lost blues, the pain of failure.
? It was tears of emotion and deep sympathy.
? Or give a contemptuous smile and bitter ridicule?
? I firmly believe that people are interested in our spine.
? Countless explorations, lost ways, failures and successes.
? I will definitely give a warm, objective and fair evaluation.
? Yes, I am anxiously waiting for their comments.
? Friends, believe in the future.
? Believe in indomitable efforts
? Young people who believe in overcoming death.
? Believe in the future and love life.