听一声桨音,穿过旧岁最末的夜,和新年最初的曙色。我知道,从此后,再没有一叶舟,可以载我,回到旧年。所有的老时光,飘荡在一管箫声里,总让人想起一抹香,几点泪。撑起生命的光阴,浪花般消隐。只留下,雾一样的回忆。掬一口流年,祭奠如水的昨日。站在自己的影子上,听生命的新曲,又在谱写。浅唱,低吟,旋律如梦,开放太多春的声音。轻抚生命之轮,遥望未来。红尘过处,多少缘来,缘去?那些一路陪伴而来的泉声,是否,依旧 Listen to the paddle sound, through the last night of old age, and the dawn of the first New Year. I know, from then on, there is no other leaf boat that can carry me back to the old year. All the old days, floating in a pipe Xiao Xiao, always reminiscent of a touch of incense, a few tears. Hold up the time of life, spray-like blank. Only leave the same fog memories.掬 a fleeting, pay homage yesterday. Stand in their own shadow, listen to the new song of life, and write. Shallow singing, whispering, melodic dreams, open too many spring sounds. Caresses the wheel of life, looking to the future. Red dust off, how many edge, edge to go? Those who accompanied all the way spring sound, whether, still