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我原是一支竹箫,后来却变成了纸鸢,一只失去线的纸鸢。我想念我还是竹箫的时候,满笛寂寞总能被他吹得七零八碎,可是,他不是我的伯牙,我也不是子期,没有高山流水,没有琴瑟和鸣。我不怪他,有谁能解一支竹箫的寂寞?我更想念我还是一棵竹子的时候,那个日日不忘为我掬一捧清水,夜夜坐于窗前对月长吟的女子,那个寂寞的女子,我伴她临风听晚,送她竹影横斜,最后也不过被她折断了所有相思。
I was originally a bamboo flute, but later became a kite, a lost paper kite. I miss me or bamboo flute, full of flute lonely can always be blowing him seven thousand and eight broken, but he is not my teeth, I am not a sub-period, there is no mountain water, there is no piano and Ming. I do not blame him, who can understand the loneliness of a bamboo flute? I miss me or a bamboo time, that day I forget to hold a bucket of water, sitting on the window every night on the long Yin Yin Woman, that lonely woman, I accompany her wind to listen late, send her bamboo shadow oblique, but finally she was all broken off by Acacia.