田野,铺着晨光,农舍的门窗,透着黑黑眼睛,我摇着野草婆娑的心辇,注视着云端的颤动。我们歌唱,我们弹琴,我们唱所有的颂歌,我们清扫所有的来路,等候时光的勇士将惟幕在歌唱中徐徐揭去。遥遥的冬天,布下了雪花膨松的厚厚祝辞,肃穆疏落的树枝蓄足养份,它们说,只要你春风一动,它们就嫩芽初上、百花竞放。一年逝去,我们敲打着自己的手鼓,我们调试好太阳的金琴,我们在走出来的路上告慰自己,不要把自己总是 The fields, covered with the morning light, the windows and doors of the farmhouse, with dark eyes, I shook the weeds of the heart, watching the trembling of the clouds. We sing, we play the piano, we sing all the carols, we clean up all the way, waiting for the time warriors will curtain in the singing slowly removed. In the distant winter, thick snowflakes are laid with thick greetings and the solemn branches accumulate enough nutrients. They say that as soon as your spring breeze moves, they begin to bloom and the flowers bloom. A year passed, we beat our tambourine, we debug good sun golden harp, we comfort ourselves on the way out, do not always