16 décembre 2011
Ends are sometimes made, dust shifan disappointed, thinking, thought, a nerd, put some time in half a century, sad as the cold wind coming invasion. Railings YuanWang, through the dark night WOW Gold, and see your face, pale flowers, concentrated night. Vaguely, you come in drunk sounds, gently calling.
Red flowers and dust-free fall to figure out, in-situ. Miss burning window lattice spread, your voice, all at my fingertips quietly into words.
The fleeting dream spring and autumn, the fleeting joys and sorrows together. Flashy shallow, faint birds terror no return. Tibi grinding, cruise accidents of one flower.
Hid in the eyes of tenderness, graceful poems, from the fingers like a stream outflow, graceful and missing will be full of ups and downs of notes, ringing in ear, eventually turns into the text line by line with deep feeling, engraved in their hearts.
Months round missed; wind, near and far. And you have lived in this text.
That litters the fragrance, fine taste, rustle of winter and die young, singing of the gentle wind chimes at midnight! Soul song Zheng, who left who's who in text, into which the vicissitudes of cream. Hidden my heart faint.