Meeting you at such a beautiful age
Gently shallow
it's you
Innocent smile
Don't like rainy days
Just because you're not around.
but
Sunshine will always come.
From this time on.
Walking alone
You can also be calm and calm.
Turn around and walk quickly.
Don't look back
The front is novel because of the unknown.
The future is beautiful because of novelty.
Just because
At such a beautiful age
I meet you
Mengzui Jiangnan misty rain
A Jiangnan ink painting came into my dream.
Small bridges and flowing water reflect the balcony, and bamboo shadows sway the spring breeze.
Jiangnan remains the same, just like your old face
I am ashamed of the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River.
We shrug our shoulders and you turn beautifully.
I remember you holding a flower folding fan in your heart.
Lightness in misty rain, your charming smile
Drunk you and my Jiangnan, leaving deep love.
In the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River, the spring breeze cuts the green willows.
Put away your silent face.
Your beautiful image is like a brand, engraved in my heart.
Vows are scattered in Jiang Nanan.
Where can I find tender love?
That gorgeous agreement became empty and blew away my thoughts.
Jiangnan in my dream often keeps me awake.
Bamboo flute, harp and Jiangnan music, singing thoughts.
Everyone in the song is gone, and the aftertaste is drunk.
Mouth with apricot blossom fragrance, boating between lotus flowers.
Looking for the original you, are you picking lotus?
Jiangnan customs as before, you hire Ting Shui Yun Jian.
Love is longing, drunk in the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River.
Yinger's eyes were disturbed by flying and she was drunk with fireworks and white sails.
The kiss between your eyebrows, the spring breeze blows.
Still brilliant
A deep feeling, scattered in the misty rain
Pen in ink painting, signature in the fleeting time of love.
Missing pen, lingering drunk face.
Wandering in romance, looking for disappearance.
When I woke up, my mind was still sweet, leaving only.
After years of regret, I miss you so far that I can't get rid of it.
Women and Poetry
That gentle call,
Awaken the purest elves,
Lying in the cradle,
Dreaming of driving white clouds,
Wandering in the sky.
Women gave birth to poetry,
Poetry touches women,
In this magical feeling,
I waited quietly,
A lump in the heart.
Wait, wait,
It turns out that my feelings are getting deeper and deeper.
So much so that,
My own heart,
Soft as floc.
The call of love,
It's poetry, it's women,
It is my heart that can't be calm for a long time.