清晨,阳光刺穿了我的心房。以为少了凄凉,却为何,又和回忆撞个满怀?微颤的手,握紧了千言万语,握紧了万般思念,却握不住我的悲伤。一弦离人曲,一首越人歌。一盏孤灯,一杯清茶。轻佻的岁月,舞尽了曼妙的年华,也舞出了记忆中的凄凉。你是否还蜷缩一隅?不言不语,静静的,像一株花?秋风霜月,携笔相约。我静静地轮回到你的梦里,这儿有很美丽的花,成批成批地开着,火红火红的。远远望 In the morning, the sun pierced my atrium. To think less less desolate, but why, and hit a full memory and tremble? Microdial hand, clenched a thousand words, clenched all thoughts, but can not hold my sorrow. A string from the human song, a song more people. A solitary lamp, a cup of tea. Frivolous years, dance done graceful years, but also danced out of the memory of the bleak. Are you still curled up? Silent, quiet, like a flower? I quietly turn back to your dreams, there is a very beautiful flower, open in batches in groups, fiery red. From afar