Cotton (outer one).
Liang Yongguo. Those cottons.
Day by day whiter.
In the ground. Stood for a fall.
Mother guarded. Seriously injured father.
Guard. Darkened down the room.
That winter. The snow is particularly heavy.
I know they are.
Cotton flew into the sky.
Weed.
Night. I feel hungry and thirsty all the time.
My upside-down roots.
Calling all the time. Call for the rain.
Those wheat corn.
That familiar land.
Drift towards the sky.
Oh. I was just.
A weed that has been culled.
In vain.
The smell of the soil.
Forgive.
Sycamore trees. Forgive those who don't love flowers.
They also began to forgive me.
Love these flowers that can't wrap around the belly.
Send.
Mei Shanzi. We are the farthest apart in the world.
I can't reach you at the speed of a dream.
We are the closest one in the world.
My heart beats because of your blood supply.
Your name is synonymous with pleasure and pain.
for interpretation. I've spent my life flipping through the dictionary of years.
I know. You once looked up at my forest on the banks of the Huangpu River.
Weave my dense with sparse ripples.
I know. You have stood on Mount Everest and looked down on my hills.
And with the divine snow light.
Shine on my withered weeds.
Rain.
Blue Nights. What is rain?
I am reminded of the reproduction of human beings.
The wind kept blowing.
I saw the camp and the camp.
It's been a long time since it's rained.
I heard that it snowed a lot in the north.
These with me. What does it matter.
If. Forget what you love in your heart.