Butterfly falls in love with flowers
Breeze blowing, standing in the high-rise,
Sad to see through the spring,
Himself to appear in the horizon,
Sunset lights up the color of grass,
Who does not know the last words mean.
I hope the mess can be drunk,
Drinking wine, singing,
Or do not intend to force laughter,
The body does not regret the gradual wasting,
To those who loved and haggard.
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