You see, the sea breeze gently in the air, the line of a row of footprints, messy but particularly lonely. I am looking for the gap and the line, for fear of stepping on your dream, afraid of waking up your dream, you can not find the shore. Then you find the shore, is not also like me, in the tide of time, look into the distance on the other side of the flowers into the sea, as everywhere is the fragrance of rape. When the tide falls, staring at this busy fall, as if there are no longer spring again.
Standing in the wiping the color blue in, breathe the smell of the wind, breathing the taste of moonshine. The shore side, right close. Originally, the world is so small, I can smell the sweet of you, little that I can hear your sadness to me and your eyes. And then all of a sudden, you can life of confusion of Qingshang to distance between you and me, in between a turn around, freeze reverie a lifetime.
Go to the hill.
At this time, in early spring, at this time, when the sun is fine, at this time, as long as the Orioles flying Yanwu. To go to the city of hills, there are flowers, there is a breeze, a butterfly shrouded hills.
Last night, I had a dream, a beautiful dream. In the far away, like the horizon far away, there was a very beautiful hill. On the hill, a cherry tree, only a tree. A piece of falling petals, in the moonlight under the light, so that depression, aloof, yet warm. You follow the moonlight and I smiled rujierzhi. You and I together in the cherry bloom, you see, there is a cherry red. You said, “go, I will take it to you.” I said: “it is the north of the red?” So you full of warmth with my singing, take me to dance, take me to wander in such as water in the moonlight, I lightly in the cherry blossoms of incense, took me walking in the beautiful hills.
Well, you come, all right? Take me to the very far place. At the end there will be no hills, see the hills in the end will not cherry, cherry blossoms in the end will not in tilting moment between diffuse you and me, you and me in the end will not at the top of the sea of clouds and co singing, jointly dance. Originally, the world is so small. Small to you and me, in a dream to stay can meet.
Or, go to the field. To the scenery of nature.
Spring, see the tree green, see the grass sprout, see the flower fragrance, the swallow flew back to see. Summer, look at the blue sky and white clouds, watching butterflies flying, watching the fish swimming, watching the birds singing. Look at the leaves, autumn, maple and red, see wheat fragrance, see fruitful. Winter, see snow, see rime crystal, see the smoke curl upwards, to see that all over the mountains and plains of the white, like you and me tenderness feelings, with the sun and the moon with the brilliant, and heaven and earth with the shortage of old.
However, the time is relentless, but the appearance is no longer. Years have the mark, but the voice has changed. Preexistence, from flowering to Xie helpless flowering, cannot do without the wind until it. Life, cannot do without the great sadness to meet the world, cannot do without pain.
Originally, the world is so small. As small as a dream, I can meet you. As small as a turn, I can see your smile. To a small back, I can remember your hair. Small to one of the four seasons, a reincarnation, I was as if walking through the lifetime, and you rub shoulders, and your arm, and you die.
Originally, the world is so small. Those who say that the solemn, obviously already fluttering want to fall, clearly has disappeared, and I clearly is no longer cry, clearly has been trying to forget, but you suddenly turn, back suddenly, suddenly smiled said to me: “OK?”
So life’s invitation to re bloom at the time of the shore, and bursting into Tianchang the tree the most arrogant Gaisang, standing in the dream of the ferry, waiting for you, waiting for me, waiting for the old, the together waiting for the childhood promise.
I do not want the world so big, the horizon is too far, no matter how to trek, are not up to your shore. I don’t like so much of the world, the Cape is too far away, all the time of my life, can not fly to your waves.
A myth is just a legend without reason. No matter how the time went by, no matter how the years change, regardless of how to face changes, regardless of samsara how removed, no matter how you smile but don’t look back, no matter how she graceful tenderness, such as water, I only wish to stand in the original horizon, see flowers or if the original fragrance, watching the wind or if initial cool, watching raindrops as they also worried about initially want to read, look at the cloud, or if you my initial appearance.
The world is so big, you want to go and see. The world is so small, I would go to prison.