我是一朵沉睡地底的古莲,只有含苞待放的心事,化作露珠氤氲于青色笔墨间。不要问我,为何拒绝春风的一万次邀请。当每一片飘过的云霞,携一曲琴音徐行,都是我滴着水的幽梦。每一缕琴弦般的雨丝,伴着柳枝柔柔的涟漪洒下,恰若我在晨昏里悄然的悸动。纵然莲子心中藏有千万苦,依依强迫自己在晚风中微微起舞。黄昏时绿萍涨断了兰舟路,定无渔人来 I am an ancient lotus sleeping in the bottom, only the budding mind, into dewdrops in the blue ink. Do not ask me, why refuse ten thousand invitations of spring breeze. When each piece drifting clouds, carrying a melody Xu line, all my dream dripping. Each string of strings of rain silk, accompanied by the tender willow tender ripples shed, just as if I quietly throbbing in the morning. Even if lotus seed in the heart of possession of thousands of bitter, Yiyi forced himself to dance slightly in the evening breeze. Greens at dusk up the blue line, set no fisherman