If you leave, there will be no end in time.

Tears fall in one eye, the city is full of sorrow. The humidity in the air is filled with a sense of loss. It is already shallow summer, but there is still a kind of unspeakable coolness, lingering between the lines. In this life, I love you with no regrets. If you leave, the future will be endless!

-- inscription

There are all kinds of amorous feelings when we meet for the first time. You are like a rose in May, blooming in front of me with your unique fragrance. From then on, my city is only responsible for absorbing the beauty of your stop. Fleeting years have a dream, that is you. An understanding, a nostalgia, easily let the dream give birth to wings. Listen to the wind, listen to the rain, because of you, there is no sadness.

Time is a wisp of fragrance, refreshing. Into the eyes of the scenery, bright with your smile, casually hold a handful of years leisurely, warm, tranquil. Perhaps, you are destined to walk gently from my life, such as the wisp of wind passing through the window. With a poetic flavor, there is loneliness in the city. Love always goes with the wind. The shallow whisper was stained with bone-chilling cold. I never measured the distance I met, nor did I predict the years when you were to be married. A light cry, so that I do not have time to cherish, will love wasted.

At the end of the season we met, there was no sadness. You gently write for me, write down the love of your life. I love you for the rest of my life. The flow of floral events, the changes of the seasons, the call of drifting away, can not hold too many promises.

Helpless, a river of spring water, how many twists and turns. In the end, it can not be merged into the sea of telepathic heart. A song from the song, sad heart. A season of old dreams, twisted into fleeting time. Flowers fly, flowers fade. The tide rises and falls. I don't know, whose strong ink will come back into your rhyme at the end of next season? The beauty of this encounter is your premeditation, but it gives me a parting without warning. Engraved, you look back, but also copy whose clear shadow. That touch of sadness, run over thousands of thousands, will still find a love to understand you? Looking back, all the way affectionate, the sun and the moon depend on each other, leaving only thousands of tears!

Ask the wine to the sky, the sky is silent. The origin of May, the margin of burial in May, should be a kind of sadness. In the shallow summer of that year, sadness was warm and hot. But was gently turned around, let the mind break at the end of the world. Should be green manure red thin, red lotus root new stamens. There is a different taste in my heart, and love is stained with sadness. Thousands of expectations, thousands of nostalgia, how to get a word. Looking back, it is also in vain. The level of a person does not rhyme in the end.

Once fell in love with you, free from worldly troubles. Alone on one side of the silence, rolling in your colorful city, indulging your arrogant loneliness, properly with your wayward tenderness. In the event of falling in love, you said that you would be gentle and warm me for half of my life. Fate is like water, words are still in the ear, but time is not cool at last. Turn around, tears have poured down, heartbroken people at the end of the world.

Since we meet, there is no need to ask each other with tearful eyes, how deep the love is and how true the thoughts are. I'm just a place where you've been wandering. Eyes down the moment, kiss the morning dew crystal clear, wait for the sun to rise, can not escape the soul.

A falling in love, how much can you really use to keep your eyes on? Half a glass of sake, how can the sinking without regrets be measured by season? At the end of that season, the sadness, love and hate entangled, but it was unable to piece together a perfect ending.

Su Nian, wet by tears. This time turn around, will go thousands of miles. In his year, if he comes across the depths of the world of mortals, I wonder if he will still be calm, gently say hello, and then pass by? Loved, complained, when one day turn around, really do not have to explain to me. Since it was meant to be, holding hands this time was a mistake. So, you and I at the end of the world, may each be well. It really doesn't matter whether it's sunny or not. Facing the wind, gently banish this bondage, so that the sadness of the heart, only smile at the sun.

A journey of mountains and rivers, a period of time, one day will precipitate into the life of the lush vine. Those sweet smells, those sweet smells, always pour the city in some soft corner of my heart. From beginning to end, you are like a colorful dream, colorful in my lonely ferry. I have always been speechless, silently giving you the warmth you want. When the flowers fall into the sky and the sun sets, you and I will meet again, will we still have the mood of that year and continue to write warm chapters? Ren Aiyi leisurely, love season after season of laughter.

When all is read, can not be read, forgotten can not be forgotten, left until can not be left. Whether we will still guard the end of the world, caress the strings and play a dusty Qinghuan. Suddenly, I looked back at that time. Is a dream, such as fantasy, but there is a kind of unspeakable regret. Do not want to shout again, since the fate is like this, why should I beg and pursue it?

In the past, it was like a dream. Residual red into the eyes, fragrance over the tip of the nose, such as the season, when you first came in the breath. Stretch out your hand and want to hold it gently again, but you can only get wet, wet and miss, and wet the ink incense that has been treasured for you over the years. If, fate has been there; if, the dream has not been awake, how good it would be. Lower eyebrows and sniff the brow between flowers. Love is as eye-catching as the first time, and you are as smiling as ever. Just, across a misty rain, I can no longer read, can not understand you alone fishing for Hanjiang leisurely.

Close your eyes and meditate. Gently open for your blooming warmth, folding, dusty. My silent nostalgia, instantly became a piece of vicissitudes of life, desolated in May.

I am sad, the sunny between your eyebrows, who is still watching. Without turning around, people are already at the end of the world. The bottom of my heart is unwilling to sleep, can no longer be touched, and becomes forever. Between the eyes, how many years of the last generation, has become the quicksand between the fingers, can no longer hold. Once stubbornly thought that you come, is the end of time. It turned out that it was just a season of unspeakable pain, just a secret that could not be flaunted.

In the melodious sound of the piano, who has ever written words for you, the book misses Hua Zhang, and the fate of the world is remote? Full of green, who have you danced for, silent journey. Looking back deeply, who is your sparse shadow glass? Half a cup of shallow tea, a roll of whispering, how to reach, the sudden heartbeat. I convert to Brahma and keep turning the wheel flags for you for many years. But you turn a blind eye, let the persistence of waiting, secretly into a war, glamorous.

I always remember that at the end of that year, that month, at the end of that season, you bloomed like a butterfly in my life with the most beautiful posture. A piece of enchanting paper and a wisp of fragrance spoil the whole time together. How much I want to hold the warmth and have no regrets for the last song of stroking the strings for you. Stay, you see through all the scenery, I would also like to accompany you to stay in Enron, watching the long stream.

Grind gently, write down shallowly. Draw a long relationship, draw a full moon. Let the love scattered in the fleeting years, according to the verdant green, lush into the most beautiful scenery. Singing softly, even if a person's water boils tea, it can also bring out the fragrance of vegetarian flowers.

After all, many people are passers-by in the misty rain. You and I, can not escape the fate of the arrangement. It turned out that the colorful encounter was the snow falling after happiness and the sadness at the end of that season. His year, suddenly left, meet again, it is as if a lifetime ago. Maybe we really have no choice but to pretend to be calm, silent, and then walk alone. Ren Luo wet his skirt, Ren Qingyun wet his promise.

Heart, like fallen leaves, can no longer find a trace that you have been here. Over the spring breeze of that season, looking from the window, we meet for a flower season without rhyme. Flowers bloom as a sequence, flowers fall into a path, step by step into your city. Let the level of meeting, such as the temperature of life, not strong, not strong, not open, not raised.

Fingertips, slightly cool, can not touch the telepathy once. At the end of that season, those dialogues were a little sad and bitter. Make a cup of chrysanthemum tea and see the dry flowers soaked in water. Shallow aftertaste, but can no longer find the willow catkins, cherry blossoms loose mood.

The heart faintly hurts, the person walks shallowly. The tenderness you send in your eyes is now stranded in whose heart? A plain note, a picture of cloud and smoke. My sunny, dry and wet sadness. Wave, I don't want to take away any clouds in your sky.

Do not ask, this parting when will meet again, speechless tears flow first. Do not say, a thousand kinds of tenderness only for me, loneliness is deep, read has no limit. Tears fall in one eye, the city is full of sorrow. The humidity in the air is filled with a sense of loss. It is already shallow summer, but there is still a kind of unspeakable coolness, lingering between the lines. In this life, I love you with no regrets. If you leave, the future will be endless!

When I met you in that life, I must have been predestined. Otherwise, why is it like a thousand years with just one glance? If I miss you in this life, I must have an appointment in a previous life. Otherwise, why, give me happiness, but also let me bear sadness. Mountains and water look at each other, and the sun and the moon have nothing to do with each other. Once said good-bye will not be separated, always in a misty weather, gradually drifting away. Next year, someday. If, we will meet again at the separated ferry; if you and I once again meet the old love of yesterday. I don't want your gentlest promise, nor do I want your most affectionate confession. Too many roads, too many words have been routed in the waiting of my failure. I am losing ground, and gradually know that this parting is a stranger. The truth from the bottom of my heart will never bloom in your current years.

A light way to cherish, the deep edge of this journey of love shallow dust sealed in the depths of the years, cellar. When the dust settles, and next May, I will come out of the dusty years and dream with you in misty rain.

Words / glazed sparse film