Acacia Bird Song

I would like to be a great tree, standing on that homeland for a long time, for thousands of years;

I want to be a rock, to snuggle there for a long time, for thousands of years;

I want to be a river that flows long through it for thousands of years;

I would like to be a spring breeze that will blow there for a long time, for thousands of years;

I would like to be a lark, and Sing there for a long time, for thousands of years...

The world, even if you are so vast and boundless, but I only wish, only wish to be there forever...

Can't you, can't, can you be with it forever, not separated, not separated!

The place of nostalgia is the lovesickness without end;

The place of nostalgia is the eternal concern of the heart;

The place of nostalgia is an endless story;

The place of nostalgia is the beautiful person who is haunted by dreams; the place of nostalgia is a bottle full of bitter water...

Love is hanging on the stomach, but it is hateful and unbearable to see...

Birds flew by, landed on the branches of the Bodhi tree, the breeze came gently, skimmed the face of the earth, and the dry grass slowly withdrew from the mountains, like the moisture of spring water, quietly paddling through, sprinkling thick business. Only there, my heart, can be completely relaxed. On the golden chair, let me lazily come to a princess to lie down, fascinated by Tagore's "Asuka Collection".

Wandering among the merlin, the fragrance of flowers ripples and fills the whole world. In the middle of Merlin, there is a bamboo house, and in front of the bamboo house is a lake. Under the cover of flowers, the whole lake has become like a sea of flowers, leaving only the central one, imprinting the color of the sky. In the midst of this strange forest, I was drunk and hazy, forgetting myself.

Who quietly lit the lantern and made everything dreamlike. Playful stars, blinking their little eyes, looking at the strange returnees, The East Mountain and the West Mountain, but never forgot the old friend. The drunken night just came too early, and the homeland of the day did not seem to have seen enough.

The japanese wind whispered, the stream was shallow, and the sky was still extremely reluctant to change into a black dress, and fell into contemplation in a field of lanterns.

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