Through a lot of roads, always hard to hide the loneliness of the heart; Once faced with the crossroads of hesitation, once faced with the choice of hesitation; Once I saw the beautiful scenery, because I did not keep awake, so I suddenly fell into a dream, and thus began to blur. Then he falls down on the ground hard, leaving the indescribable sadness and the indescribable romantic feeling behind. Those years of the river, never because of my sorrow, will not flow, or no longer leave sadness in the heart. This makes me feel deeply, let me show my heart, let me stay lonely and wandering.
Those years, hung full of my heart, originally did not want to have any relaxation, but, still left the days in the circle, and those days in the cold. Experienced how much wind and rain, but still have their own songs; Those under the foot of the melody, always in casual as a drizzle, leaving strands of silk, winding in the heart, so that the heart left a lot of doubts. Lonely figure, so the expression of the unquiet; Those prominent years of peace, but left the heart of the amorous feelings. And those who have lost, always interlaced with time, but left is not necessarily sad.
Years inside the blurred, always will leave a lot of ripples. And those who had already been dormant memory, but because of the inadvertent frustration, will start flowing again ripples. The trace in the memory, the curve did not deviate much, but let the heart constantly flow once mysterious. The pain in those days, because of their own feelings, and felt the pain of tearing heart and splitting lungs. With the hand of time, gently caress the heart of that sorrow; Any wound, even if there is still a struggle, will sometimes feel that this is the memory of the flowers, is also the veil left by the years. Those exposed in the outside of the loss, leisurely moving the outline of time; When I look up, I can see those hopes flashing in front of me, and there will be no sadness in my heart.
The mountain of memory, is the journey of life, in constant ups and downs, extending forward, also like the mood in fear. Those twists and turns, leaving the choice in time. Years of grass, in the time of the wind flashing in the proud; Those memory trees, in the roadside show loneliness. It was the mountains that seemed unattainable, and there was bitterness in my heart, fear and thoughts of my own. Now when I look back, the road at my feet is the mountain that I have conquered. Only when you go down the mountain, you want to make a stop, but you will keep falling down, and you will not be proud, but you will hear the laughter in time. The loss of those experiences is like a tree falling into the wrong place, without certain rules, but with its own order.
Those hopes have always been like a river in a mountain stream, attached to the white clouds in the sky, moving steadily and merrily, making a moving sound and appearing pure. The sun is not very warm and moist, but can let the heart have charming charm, in the constant beating, surging. Those past time, left how much confusion? Those ignorant years, how many lack of circle? And the depth of memory, in the continuous forward stretch, the constant nostalgia, the constant attachment. Want to draw a knife to break the water, want to be drunk, or want to sleep, just those who lost, but flashing, also start to crisscross.
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