? ? ? Early spring in the thin snow spit green, you are winding vitality.

　　Midsummer silver waves reflect the dome, you are amazing burning clouds.

　　Residual autumn jiao moon mo string, you are intoxicating night wind.

　　In midwinter the jackdaw is purple, and you are a flickering flame in a hidden corner.

　　You are the moon in the mirror, heartbroken.

　　You are the joy of youth.

　　You are the hot cold sigh after clearing the air with me. Moved the heart for only a sigh.

　　You are open to the starry night, the window of April. Only the heavy curtain reflected the cold light.

　　You are the lilac girl holding an oil-paper umbrella in the rain, and you hesitate. Desperately pursue but only to get the faded skirts.

　　You are not sit at the end of the third line, is the baluster that the scenery, is fleeting reflection.

　　You are I can not say the export of the sorry, is the parting of the trembling palm, is burned into embers memories.

　　You are waiting for me in the wind.

? ? ? 初春里薄雪吐了綠，你是蜿蜒的生機(jī)。

　　仲夏里銀波映了穹，你是驚艷的燒云。

　　殘秋里皎月默了弦，你是惹人醉的晚風(fēng)。

　　隆冬里寒鴉噤了聲，你是隱秘角落里跳動著的火光。

　　你是鏡花水中月，斷腸曲中人。

　　你是年少的歡喜。

　　你是向我澄清誤會后燙的發(fā)冷的嘆息。動了心換的也只是唏噓。

　　你是開向靜夜星空，人間四月天的窗。撥開了也只有重簾映著冷光。

　　你是雨巷里撐著油紙傘的丁香姑娘，幽怨又彷徨。拼命追尋卻只見得到那褪色的裙裳。

　　你是坐不到盡頭的三號線，是欄桿那頭的風(fēng)景，是稍縱即逝的倒影。

　　你是我再也說不出口的對不起，是離別時發(fā)顫的掌心，是燒成余燼的回憶。

　　你在風(fēng)里等我的你。