who is it?

The sound of the piano is attached to the cold wind and it is drizzle. Slimming hands, slowly breaking, full of mourning, full of heartache. Who? I have a wind and frost in my eyebrows, but let me sigh alone? Who, planting sorrow in my heart, but leaving me crying?

who is it? Change day and night, silently on the West Building, waiting for a return to Hong. Autumn sorrow, and I have no complaints. Acacia is mixed with heart and mind, long willow. The tenderness of the pulse, a little bit of sadness, tears in the face, body and mind.

who is it? Holding the strings, dialing a song and telling the millennium regret. The time splashed with dust, and I flew a little old dream of being cool and smoky, crossing my blurred eyes. In a hurry, I am in harmony, and eventually I am apostate, everything is like a dream, like a smoke, like water, and never go. I can't remember those bright smiles, for who blooms, only remember the quiet life, there will be no good life that I can choose, then, no obsession, no jealousy, Ronghua curtain call, but also a river of eternal silence.

Sixth grade of Bipu National Primary School, Tonglu County, Hangzhou, Zhejiang, China: Hu Chenhuan