Ephemera Life

Late at night, shake the wind out of the window the rain illness, my thoughts are wandering far away, free, no Sigui.
You deliberately recommend the song "Station" has been hovering in the ears, tore my heart, and frequently the memory present.
That the wave of the day, those who encounter and parting, and not yellowed with time, but as layers of leaves, the wind out of date, rustling sound, then the bright golden color, eye-catching, so I had to frequently recalled, fondly.
So, beautiful day, because you added to the several melancholy, mood hard to.
Since the sky, you take away all the strong plot, the time has been increasing, but I could not see the future, the longer the light saw the stars, flowers are the color disappeared.
You are an intoxicating flower, often think of you, I felt like a month off the mountain. Like hook on the mountain off in the sand and the cold hard journey, more and more haggard, eventually falling in waves of longing, the bend another corner Zaibu Dong, a lot of worry.
This feeling is wonderful, and very natural, I believe I know every cell of your well knows.
All along, you always want some of my poems more imaginative, but the height of your enterprise and how can I? To this end, I haunt the night in the written word, secretly depressed, the total has to do as intended.
And you still full of confidence, with great patience, always pointing, smiling quietly.
Mei Lanfang has been because of the existence of the lonely hearts, singing to make a human joys and sorrows, and I, because of the wind sent you miss, it was difficult to write something presentable and acceptable numerous poems.
That one song after another poem, which is why one square, you can always by virtue of superior wisdom in a very short period of time to comment and revision, let me scale new heights.
For poetry, we became the shore fish, with thoughts profound feelings.
Those immersed in the written word happiness, love each other the eye that fringed beauty of the river in the night time fragrance.
Better than these, remember the "Flower Drum play" it? Remember fre Why?
Of course, you will not forget, I will not.
You're always sorry to say, the reality of happenings that make himself into a smelly, hard rock, writing to you only as a dream, then no threads are free from the silence.
In fact, you are the favorite and most adept at weaving dreams of people, from your flower arrangement to your conversation I have deep sense of it all.
All of the past have left a mark in the brow heart, not tough to avoid total phase.
But, this ephemera of life, really afraid of love, such as mayflies.
Small mayfly "does not drink do not eat, and died three days.", At which time, it lives only three hours after the larvae hatch in the water to continue to live in the water one to three years to reach the maturity period, then climb towards the shore grass, degenerate into a mayfly, but also after the second transformation, can fly, so they look for spouses, mating and spawning, and then tired to death. Underdeveloped because of the oral cavity, it took two to three years in preparation come after three hours of life, they are not busy drinking food or water.
Ephemera is the most vulnerable and most steadfast love crazy in the biological, it does not ask ever and ever, not after thinking it over, just warm abundance to live. Even the worth of hard work, also body, such as flame, even death can not destroy such a powerful will.
And you and I, but had to think about so many aspects, can only wait and see the world from a tiny office, hard boiled degree years time, the consonance between the Tibetan heart, quietly happy, can not find an exit.
Buddha Day: Four people to have the old bitter parting, never will be sad not worry. So he try hard, you want to receive eternal guiding the people quiet. However, this transcendent realm appears to be simple, easy, how can we make up? Thinking of you, think of the past, I still can not look like a mayfly as a sober, compassionate, to reach a transcendent realm.
Rain was still under the overwhelming, the listening to your favorite "station", a drop of rain to quietly flash into my eyes, crystal 1.