When I was a child, my mother said, young lady, youth. Youth, what a good word, light, or rich.
Youth is nothing in my eyes, but when I am old, I will understand what it is like to miss. Maybe, now, I can understand.
Missing is a faint love, a nostalgic feeling, an ideal kite and the wings of dreams; Youth is a green mango, a faint grass, a rich flower, or something else … I don't know, but I only know one thing, that is to cherish. Cherish the youth now, cherish the beauty now, and cherish everything now. Come back and relive it when you are old. It's gone. What are they talking about? They wrote a poem, which is wonderful and beautiful. ...
Those were the days before, and that was love made up of youth.
We were full of childishness at that time, but we were happy.
isn't it?
We went swimming and traveling side by side arm in arm.
Youth is a song, a sad and desolate song.
But when it is ripe, savor it.
It expresses not sadness, but
warmth
Youth is the music of love, a beating note.
This is a dream, flying wings.