Tonight, the wooden window pulls out the lonely light
Ahead, the shadow of the terrifying forest rushes in, flooding the hut
In front of the house, dead branches grow on the fence , the black shadow is growing
The sound of the light falling in the hut is clear and melodious
It is an old man
In the night, the book is placed by the stove, the hot The light turns over the font and drips with tears
It is an old man
Under the waning moon, the wooden body is placed on the old desk, and the beating strings break the wine bottle
I don’t know
The autumn rain of which year filled the wine bottles packed in the wooden house
The deep wine released the bee wings flying in the wind and stirred up the stored wine in the sky. Flower stand
I really want to ask
Is this autumn rain a bellows for collecting honey in the coming year?
The bellows are filled with flowers from the garden, flying thousands of miles, and moonlight. .Return
Tears for this lonely melody
The weak notes are driven into the night and swallowed up, and the crystallization of the damp wooden house will be full of flowers in the coming year
Tonight, this Wooden house
The lonely butterfly turns into a drop of green light fragrance in the night
Floats into the forest, river, and grassland
A surprise at dawn
< p>The ground is green and crystal clear, and tonight has become a memory.