A thousand years, he said, you have to wait another thousand years.
In a thousand years you can be like me, waiting for the camellias to bloom a thousand times.
I looked up at him from under the red flowers.
A thousand years seems not too long. It turns out that this red flower is called camellia.
So you should be especially happy when the petals fall.
He held my head and smiled.
A flower falls once and counts as one year.
One year, two years, three years, the flowers bloom and fall,
When the cold wind blows, I crawl into a deep hole,
He crossed his body and lowered his eyelids.
The red flowers reflected his eyebrows, it was such a good dream.
The flowers will bloom again when we go out again.
I licked my head with the letter and closed my eyes. In fact, you don't know.
What I like best is curling up next to you under the shade of flowers,
I just want flowers to bloom every year, so I don't bother to count how many times they bloom.