Years are full of memory escapes, drifting into drawers that you don't want to open.
You, who planted snowflakes and danced, have now become a lingering drizzle.
In your figure, careful steps are full of courage.
Listen to the whispers of spring
In the middle of the night after pear blossom, summer insects light up your white hair.
In the reflection of the twilight water waves, the memory is wrinkled.
If you like it, take it away and put it by the heating stove in winter.
Yellowing photos are full of youthful and unrestrained memories.
In the Woods, you paint and decorate at the foot of that hillside.
There are your poems in the clear spring, and the laughter is sparse, and the running water is removed.
In the moon, there is your heart whispering under the grape trellis.
There is your stupidity in the cloud, and the old tree climbs proudly.
In the stars, there is your delusion, looking forward to falling and falling into dreams.
In the drizzle, you had a dream and often wanted to string raindrops around your neck.
However, a tear shattered all the memories.
An autumn bug crawled on my forehead and stole my spring.
A heart rain fell and took away the green leaves of my life day and night.
In ordinary years, it becomes a lingering drizzle.
Half asleep, I have an extraordinary memory of my life hidden in a shallow place.
If you lose courage and love.
Like a poem in a warm winter, it has lost its meaning.
If so
I will go into the wind to stop the storm.
It's like crying with awe, calling for the spring breeze in Wan Li.
Plant energetic memories.