Shining with once faint youth and years separated from each other.
Iris gradually climbed up all the hillsides and watched the arrival of Black Poetry.
Those poems that are circulated sing legends, and those who sing legends in legends,
Those people have nurtured countless journeys in countless eyes.
Mixed with youth and happy past, unknown origin, unknown origin.
Only when the years return along the road do wizards paint with bright gold paint and silver powder.
So the whistling arrow in the forest was born in the dark years.
The once gloomy clothes instantly glow with crescent-like white light,
You were young, you were handsome, you were silent, you were kind, and after many years, you returned to pure white at the age of seventeen.
Once lonely, become no longer lonely.
This world is a happy playground in your hands, and no one can close it except you.
So the sky is gorgeous and reeds linger,
You show up at the intersection of poverty with a Zhang Mingliang face and white hair.
Like the summer when the solstice was lost many years ago.
When the world presents cracks, the long and short turns distinguish glass flowers.
Shining once faint youth and years apart from each other.
Iris gradually climbed up all the hillsides and watched the arrival of Black Poetry.
Those poems that are circulated sing legends, and those who sing legends in legends,
Those people have nurtured countless journeys in countless eyes.
Mixed with youth and happy past, unknown origin, unknown origin.
Only when the years return along the road do wizards paint with bright gold paint and silver powder.
So the whistling arrow in the forest was born in the dark years.
The once gloomy clothes instantly glow with crescent-like white light,
You were young, you were handsome, you were silent, you were kind, and after many years, you returned to pure white at the age of seventeen.
Once lonely, become no longer lonely.
This world is a happy playground in your hands, and no one can close it except you.
So the sky is gorgeous and reeds linger,
You show up at the intersection of poverty with a Zhang Mingliang face and white hair.
Like the summer when the solstice was lost many years ago.