Now the rhythm, strong life, hard work.
A long-lost day, a vicissitudes novel.
The passage of time
Some people don't have to bury the past for themselves after all.
Uncooled tea, occasionally stained with dust.
Like the end of youth, the old days.
Gently twist a piece of the past.
She left, he left, and they all left.
You are not alone, you still have yourself.
the original
No matter what it used to be. Prosperity.
finally
Will go to the irrelevant misty rain.
Like this season's yellow flower rain, free and easy.
But I don't know the next second
In a blink of an eye, the years went away, and the flowers in the dream finally got cold.
A pool of spring water, endless fleeting time, how can we recall the past?
A crescent moon locks the building, and a poem is full of rhyme.
After all, prosperity is endless desolation.
The years are in ruins. What are the disadvantages of singing?
Looking at other people's stories, I feel all kinds of fleeting time.
The world of mortals passed by and two lines of clear tears fell.
The wind of the years
Can't blow away the good past
Those blue bright eyes
Whose eyes are flooded again?
It's a life without regrets.
Or the years are in ruins.