I look on in the alley, the flying snow. - Inscription
Very light breeze at night is always very light, quiet girl like the pace. Shallow, leaving the slightest mark on the white snow.
Snow girl with a smile, like sleeping birds, basking in the innocent dreams. Yang mouth slightly, so that night also followed as they watch, hazy dream, hazy beauty.
With its red Santa hat, smiling at the Christmas Eve night, flew into every child's dream. Also flew into was a child my dreams. But I did not receive her gift, nor can I send a gift.
I look on in the alley, the flying snow.
Today Christmas, I told myself to be very happy, very happy.
Not because there is no news of her thinking. Can not be sad because of what a person himself.
Innocence of snow fell in this world, to leave his mark, telling the world she came. I do not know, so that the pure snow, infected with a trace of sadness will be more attractive. But I know, she tries to tell the world she came, her efforts to bring the world should not just be sad.
A piece of snow, floated into the eyes, my eyes cold. Outside the scope of my sight you are still well?
I miss you, but you can not with anything else, just thoughts, pure thoughts. Like I have said to you, I stand here, just because I want to stand here, not the other cars are not looking at the scenery.
Time flies, my recollections of the time. As a piece of snow, the graceful flying in the air. Draw a trajectory of a brilliant, falling to the ground, dispersed in the soil. Crystal-opening, circle around, as you fall on the lake of tears.
Your hair flying in the air, you sit on the lake, feet white, you say: "Love to resistance over time, such as the leaf with the tree growth."
I said: "If I remember you, you already will not remember me yet?" You suddenly smiled shallow, shallow, like I've had enough of the sarcasm.
I smile, but you can no longer light hug the shoulder. Whispering trembling, tears, as was the memory of my pieces, fragmented, flying, yet also seemed to fly in the dish.
String of a string of memory fragments. Lap of the waves into a circle, reflecting the moonlight, turned into a glass of the mirror.
Night, the quiet, the breeze filled the ears, as if someone is whispering, singing: "Mirror A mirror on the wall, you tell me who the world's most beautiful Lie." The lake has emerged in the innocence of your innocence.
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