The appearance in the season is like a lotus flower.
The east wind doesn't come, and the catkins don't fly in March.
Your heart is like a small lonely city.
Just like a bluestone street, it doesn't sound at night.
The spring curtain in March doesn't open.
Your heart is a small window.
I dada. There lived my mistress
and I left her nothing
except a pot of golden chrysanthemum and a high window
Maybe, let in a little loneliness in the sky
Maybe ... And golden chrysanthemum is good at waiting
I think loneliness and waiting are good for women
So, I ... Or the arrival of migratory birds
Because I'm not the kind of person who often goes home
Farewell
This time I left you, it was the wind, the rain and the night
You smiled, and I waved my hand
A lonely road spread to both ends
When I read it, you had returned to the riverside home
I missed you combing your long hair or getting wet. I'm afraid that the darkness has really taken shape ...
You say that you are so stupid, and you are more like the child who is fighting for the wind.
You shouldn't have bound it and let it go.
The mistake of leaving a broken line
The book is too thick.
The beach that shouldn't have opened the front page is too long.
The cloud that shouldn't have left its footprints comes from the valley and the spring water. Where is the ocean?
The first encounter of the "single-plank bridge" is a thing of the past.
Now it's a vast grassland.
I have lost the right to support your special favor.
Red and white rub blue and evening sky, which is so beautiful.
But I didn't go into the golden fruit garden, but I went into Victor's grave ...
I will not leave you this time.