At the end of July, the rain was rippling, and the lotus pond was wet, and the thought also gave birth to dampness. The past that passed slowly, rested on the flowers and branches of that year, that month and that day.
The white horse that cannot catch up with time
? Can't keep the green plum of that year
? The time in the depths of fleeting years
? How much it is cold, I still want to talk
Smile and bid farewell to July
Waiting for the sun in August
Drenched memory of drizzle
And let it give birth to its melancholy
The scenery passing by in a hurry
And let it stay in the mountains and rivers (remember this site URL: www.hlnovel.com