The silent falling flowers slid into my rainy heart garden with the wind, and the rivers of hearts through which the leisurely blue water flowed seemed to be the intersection of listening hearts and hearts. The moonlight was still there, with the pain in my heart, across the shore, gently blowing that distant tenderness. The icy fragrance, like a sweet spring, slowly flows and spreads in the heart...
In the quiet of the night, I can't pick up a smile, and I can't finish a song of idle sentiments. In lonely dreams, we are separated from each other, and we want to write our hearts. Is the piano tone sentimental? Is it a nostalgia? Or is it a dusty cut of wind flowers? In the desolate fingertips, there was a trace of acacia, and the desolate smile.
Remember you said that since you meet, you will have a clear and shallow intersection. You and I, hurriedly meet in the rolling earth, regret to rely on each other's feelings, like water, like smoke. So, you warmed into a flower in my palm that will never wither, and you will be attached to it forever.
Our love is like a blooming heart, covered by fragrance, and the heart is held, in front of the moonlight like water flowers, go to the clear stream to catch the smiles of the past, carefully hold up a nest of hope, but find that the palm of the hand is only the passing years.
Tonight into the painting of cold wind color, desolate voice calling, interpreting a chapter of the soul, through you and me Jingyi, write a song of ancient and modern music, touch this earthly wind and frost to show a tired face. Clear eyes are far away, the other shore, it has been a thousand years. In the ten thousand styles, in the sound of the piano, have you ever heard the language of my heart?
The tone of the piano is euphemistic, the heart is also leisurely, like water, the past is like smoke, turning in the heart, with the sound of the piano a little far away... If we let everything go back to the past, we will not meet, meet, fall in love, and work together until the end. The old things that melted into the tears were like smoke, floating in front of them but a little lonely. With your name in your palm, sink to the bottom of the water and lie down for a thousand years!
If there is an afterlife, please don't let me forget the figure that made me obsessed; the peach blossom rain in this life and this life, the unchanging thoughts in my heart. If the sea becomes a mulberry field, you and I are faltering, are you still willing to let me pour out my long-lasting thoughts in your ears? In this life, let me use words to make a dream of soft clouds, light smoke, and a smile...
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