Who is waiting for me in the shadow of camphor tree
Slow motion clouds, blinking constellations,
Blocked by green air
Spring flood rises and falls, overnight worries become fireflies
If the moon petal fails, the pine needle hangs tears
Wild geese flying on the Tropic of cancer
The season is cold and noisy, and the moon is like the side of a boat,
Over the city
The wind blows away, the cloudy day takes away a few years
Raindrops enter the eye and expand into the sea level
Out of port dream, winter night in the past, light and bridge meet
It's too fragile to have flowers falling near
Maybe it should be maintained, the gap
Too much bitterness thins sweetness
Tears spectrum into mold, diffuse into the forest old work
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