Become my childhood;
The stream is clear and tinkling,
With a stubborn spirit,
A childish face? Bending and flow
Bend over? Run to the river.
The river bends,
Kidnapped my childhood;
How wide is the river bed? Qian Qian,
The dream of taking a boat,
A cavity is full of enthusiasm.
Winding towards the shore.
The path is curved,
Took my teenager;
The road is rugged and long,
Carrying a bag of spring scenery,
Looking forward to it? Bending and flow
Bend down and run to tomorrow.
Curved road, curved me,
There are always tears in my eyes,
But I will never say change. . . . . .