The years are silent, the past is the same as before

That day, you hung for me the string of wind chimes outside the window. Still in the corner of the season, gently shaking and singing. It's me. I forgot. Or you, have been nostalgic for the broken sadness?

After thousands of twists and turns of waiting, I was finally covered with a touch of melancholy by the years. Looking from afar, there are all the ends of falling flowers. You are not in my eyes.

Is it because it's too far away? Or is it because time is running out? That thousands of prosperous blooming, perhaps just an one-man show that no one applauded. Both inside and outside the play, I am alone.

Read, flying in the world of mortals. Some wait, do not need too much speculation. Some feelings do not need too much commitment. All the endings will be clear at the moment the dust settles. All dreams will come true at the moment of blooming. Reading and appreciation of American articles

If, one day, you are tired of the wandering mountains and rivers. Well, then stop in the scroll I bound for you. The bustling crowd can not collect you as carefully as I do.

You see, the branches of the years are full of flowers. That is, I lay out a good poetic feeling for you on the plain paper of life.

Miss, along the lost Fangfei, start at the beginning of a new word. Cold Dew of the morning breeze, listen to the sounds of nature, ring the bell in the distance for me. Luckily, I didn't miss the rose show.

If, one day, you can not find the way to come. Well, then go back slowly along the clear sound of the wind chimes. The wonderful outside, not everyone can, easy to have.

You listen, in the shallow wind, affectionate whisper. It is the morning bell and twilight drum that I planted for you in the passing years.

Waiting, through thousands of rivers and mountains, fainting in a cup of tea I just made. Plain heart is indifferent, look at the green leaves, bloom the most beautiful posture for me. Fortunately, I still have the most beautiful scenery in the fleeting years.

The end of the world, close at hand. Close at hand, Tianya. Sometimes, really afraid, all of a sudden lost each other's information. In the cutting tenderness, there is only no resentment and no regrets. Perhaps, because I have loved, I have a compassionate and tolerant heart.

Falling flowers are speechless, and people are as light as chrysanthemums. The years are silent, the past is the same as before! If you can, let me use the candlelight of my life to illuminate the steps forward for you. Through the dusk, over the dew weight.

I know you will. Will find the direction you want in my pious wish.