Peach blossoms fall into the peach blossom forest, and the ten-mile long embankment is dyed. Beauty has an appointment. Do you know that?/You know what?

The flowers are blurred and the beauty is drunk. How many things have happened in the world will eventually be one thing. It's half past midnight, and my handwriting is urgent. Who will remember me this time?

A city, a feeling, a dream on the horizon, a touch of miss between the eyebrows, a drop of tears in my heart. I can't forget the changes of seasons, the changes of years, and the thoughts of you.

Pain grasps the point in love. The wall of acacia is an insurmountable boundary. Your figure has been thin for a while. I wrote my unrequited love in the gap of words, and I couldn't jump out of my infatuation. The world is full of red dust and endless complaints.

That piece of pink and willow green, flowers flying, butterflies falling in love, warmed my loving eyes, but moistened your heart. I use the rhyme of a poem to turn spring scenery into wine. I'll give you a drink for a change and leave it at the window.

After years of wind and frost, I can't erase the emotion in my memory. Time gently knocks on the door of June, and the long wait mottles the fragments of time and space. I am alone in this flashy world, pursuing your figure in the red dust of reincarnation.

Green leaves listen to flowers, rain falls, flowers fall, you are my soul, lovesickness tells the pain of heartbroken. Who knows the rain in the dream of acacia?