It turns out that the world is so small
It turns out that the world is so small
Go to the beach.
You see, the sea breeze is gently diffused, and the footprints line by line are messy but particularly lonely. I'm looking for the space to walk, for fear of stepping on your dream and waking up your dream, and you'll never find the shore to turn back. So, if you can't find the shore, will you be like me, when the tide rises, looking at the flowers on the other side into the sea, as if there were the fragrance of rape flowers everywhere. When the tide falls, gazing at the prosperity of the bank, it seems that spring will never come again.
Standing in the darkest blue, breathing the taste of sea breeze and moonlight, the ends of the world are close at hand. It turns out that the world is so small, so small that I can smell your fragrance, so small that I can hear your sadness, so small that I and your eyes can confuse the love war of my life in an instant, and so small that the distance between me and you can freeze the reverie of my life as soon as I turn around.
Go to the hills.
At this time, it is early spring. At this time, it is sunny. At this time, it is swallows dancing and Orioles flying. At this time, it is high mountains and long rivers. Go to the hill. Go to the hill with flowers, breeze and butterflies.
Last night, I had a dream, a beautiful dream. In a place as far away as the horizon, there is a very beautiful hill. On the hill, there is a cherry tree, only one. Falling petals, under the clear moonlight, look so lonely and arrogant, so depressed, but still warm. You came in the moonlight, and I came as scheduled with a smile. You and I are together in the brilliance of cherry blossoms. You see, one cherry is red. You said, "go, I'll pick it for you." I said, "is that the red bean from the north?" So, you take me to sing, dance, walk in the moonlight like water, dance in the fragrant cherry blossoms, and walk on the beautiful hills.
So, you come, okay? Take me to that far and far place to see if there will be hills, cherry blossoms on the hills, cherry blossoms will permeate you and me, and whether you and I will sing and dance together on the top of the sea of clouds. It turns out that the world is really so small. As small as you and me, I can stay in my dream to meet.
Or go to the wilderness. Go to the scenery of nature.
In spring, look at the new green trees, the new buds of grass, the fragrance of flowers and the flying back of swallows. In summer, you can see the blue sky and white clouds, butterflies flying, fish swimming and birds singing. In autumn, you can see the fallen leaves returning to their roots, the red maples, the fragrant ears of wheat and fruitful fruits. In winter, watching the snowflakes flying, the crystal of fog song, the curl of cooking smoke and the whiteness of mountains and fields are just like the feelings of you and me, shining with the sun and the moon and old with heaven and earth.
However, time is merciless, but the face is no longer. Years have scars, but the voice has changed. In the past life and this life, we can't do anything without flowering and withering, and we can't do anything without the wind. We can't live without the wind. This life and the afterlife are inseparable from the ups and downs of the tide, the desolation of the peerless world, and the love and sorrow of the red world.
It turns out that the world is really so small. As small as a dream, I can meet you. As small as a turn around, I can see your smile. As small as a look back, I can remember your hair fragrance. As small as a four seasons and a reincarnation, I seem to have gone through a lifetime, wiping my shoulders with you, holding hands with you, and dying with you.
It turns out that the world is really so small. Those vows that have been agreed clearly have been fluttering and falling, and clearly have disappeared, and I, clearly no longer cry, clearly have tried to forget, but you suddenly turn around, suddenly return, suddenly smile and say to me, "are you okay?"
Therefore, the invitation of life blooms again on the Bank of time, blooming into the most lonely Gesang, standing at the ferry of dream, waiting for you, waiting for me, waiting for the old earth, waiting for the end of time, waiting for the promise of childhood together.
I don't want the world to be so big. The horizon is too far away. No matter how you trek, you can't reach your shore. I don't want the world to be so big, the Cape is too far away, and I can't fly to your waves all my life.
The myth on the street is just a legend without roots. No matter how time passes, no matter how the years change, no matter how the appearance changes, no matter how you turn around, no matter how you smile but don't look back, no matter how gentle and graceful she is, I just want to stand on the initial horizon, look at the flowers as if they were still the initial fragrance, the wind as if they were still the initial coolness, and the raindrops as if they were still worried about the initial thoughts and the cloud, It's like when you and I first met.
The world is so big that you want to see it. The world is so small that I just want to paint the ground as a prison.