Chapter 54 to spring

But last spring, the scent of flowers, Red and white alternate with a small winding path, On this pale afternoon, climbing again Looking back, there is a pine wind in front of the hill Just blow a long distance, beside yourself. When people go, peacock-green garden gates, white lilacs, Accompanied by moving details, at this time, Another season when the water of the lake is about to dissolve has completely changed the picture. Hanging in time, facing the sun does not come, Even when it comes, it obliquely erases a line of silent memory, under the tree.