Spring is beautiful, poetry lies in the distance. The poetry contains fireworks, a clear verse's color.

I passed through here, listening to the wind sliding off the paper, ripples like a song on the score.

I always believe that there will be someone in this world who will step with the elegance of the Song Dynasty, just for you, coming gently. Then, with heartfelt writing, pen a line of clear characters, moonlight, trees, and the breeze that drifts through your sleeve.

Clear dust on the roadside, rain surrounds, dreamlike and gentle. I will include all the beauty in the season of blossoming flowers.

And all longing, doesn't need to be forced, will rise naturally from your heart in the moment you close your eyes.

Sometimes, there are many things to say, but good days remain silent. Instead, condense the brilliance of a finger, returning to a Qing dynasty stone alley, my poetry is green in Jiangnan, my dreams also fall in Jiangnan.

I know my dream is a cloud moored among the flowers, very light, very light.

Fold a flower still cool, let your thoughts be quiet in the rain, floating into a pool of sky-blue rhyme.

Perhaps, at the end of all the splendor, it is a desolate path. I still thank this journey of silence and vast distance, a light and subtle appropriateness.

Still believed in time, in those unspoken understandings. So, the remaining days, let the wind and rain carve, let fate arrange, always with you at a flower's first encounter, exchanging a quiet greeting.

In fact, the best time is to meet people with similar souls.

So he understands your silence; you know her silence, no need to elaborate on the cold exchange, just quietly together watching the long flow of water.

When light and shadow retreat into silence, when your fingertips stain with the loneliness of the night, there is always someone who makes your heart rise with warmth layer upon layer.

Right now, sitting alone in time, listening to a flower's deep affection, is a signature of time, beautifying your red makeup. If eternity and forever are the meaning of cherishing, then your name is the last blank verse outside thousand mountain's ink.

If my heart contains a spring, you are the brightest color.

When the foot of the wind sweeps across the memory of the shore, gently awakens a peach blossom. So, all the green grass and singing birds have meaning.

We meet in a verse, only hear fragrance of flowers, not talk about joy and sorrow. Let the splendor pass by, as long as we know what we most want, what we should cherish, then all the twists and turns are worth it.

In fact, the serenity of life is simply to put brilliance in your heart, even a lonely journey can bloom a gentle flower. Spring is beautiful, you are beautiful too, idle feelings, also smile.