Come a bit late spring of this year's
We can only wait With hope
Waiting for the night to recede, the sun shines
Wait for the past winter, with spring
In this endless waiting
Wind in a blooming season cycle, the way the landscape covered with dust
Nothing we can do, can only wait
Flowers in the mountains is not open Sheng
But the spring of breath
Has been some Xuzheng Zhao
Look at a small roadside ponds, white walls and black tiles of the courtyard
The signs are everywhere spring is about to fall
Kafka said:
We'll just lay or sleep or wake, or dream or quietly sing, day after day
Well, so lying, singing, waiting for
Such as sadness swept over the hills, such as youth finish, spring, full of fall
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