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The spring flowers and I'm old

Spring has come, really came. I'm looking forward to it, very early on in search of its traces, I found it, inadvertently, it is Breeze Blows sent, a breeze, a plume, Rourou take willow hands, in its hands carefully drew a flower bud. I pursued it. See the last leaves of the willow, first put on the spring Ziyi, from afar, Lin Li smoke cage mantle, with green, not much, if any, the weak and strong branches, blowing in the wind, like spring Messenger, from the distant fields shortage does not select the road runs will come, will the University admission notice, high Qing in the hand waving, under the blue sky and white clouds, approached, approached, I love her.

Spring be full of sound and colour, passionate, it sang and danced, shouting roared to flourish with surging all-powerful, iron, Wan li. Spring spring, spring spring, spring mountain spring water, spring in the spring, spring, it is not a byte, it is a season, one curtain dream, it caresses the world, covering the world, be equal to anything, everywhere. I am very excited, want to write it, but it's too majestic momentum, my handwriting is too small, I know what to do. Every year spring similar, each year is different. For decades to be compressed into one page of paper left in the hands of the spring, count and several? Really could not bear, it is valuable in spring. Loathe to give up, how are you? Spring cannot be retained, wasted is Orioles' twittering.

Spring comes and go, time does not stay, youth, old age. I watched the fate of the boat, review the brief life, let me quote Stephen Chow's classic lines: once there was a sincere love in front of me, I did not cherish, and I lost my only Too Late To Regret, the most painful thing in the world.
It not only regret and guilt and pain, I often have the illusion of memories, love flowers dream, smile only yesterday, all the feelings are still vivid, let me forget their age, let me remember the jointing sound seedlings. I celebrate the life of spring. With its beauty, and it brings me the meaning of life, the heart of joy, love that all threads neatly tied up, the gentle tenderness such as water, that run silent Tao Ran, the spring green and tender, the like a raging fire, gentle, and I always complete love heart Ji, that is me the spring of life. In the spirit of the home, I poured glass lamp, waiting for the spring moon rises, the shadow into three, taste the sweet love, chewing feeling bitter, watching the ground fall red, in the wind and rain, not drunk, drunk. Nothing to see for three hundred miles but a blur of woods and mountain. And the river's nine loops, twisting in our bowels. I drunk driving an old cow pulling a rickety cart, bid farewell to Baqiao Liu, Changting shorter Pavilion, at the end.
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