Love poems of foreign characters

In fact, no one knows, in my heart, love is not a wandering migratory bird, but always perches on the cliff of material desire;

It is not a fragile flower, but always blooms in a happy season.

It is actually a willow tree, very beautiful.

In spring, watch it struggle to get rid of the shackles and grow proud green;

In summer, accompany it to watch the hateful sunset and look forward to the next cool breeze;

In autumn, let its fluttering catkins fall on my shoulders and listen to its deep voice and shallow singing;

In winter, I would like to watch the moon rise and set with loneliness and expectation in the cold wind.

Wang Yang sea, my heart turned to dust.