Flowers and time have always sang the tragic song of love and hate. At night, I saw that the beautiful branches of spring flowers every year have lost their appearance in the time, and I also saw many young bean sprouts as decorations of time. They dreamed of blooming their youth into small flowers, and were intoxicated with the fragrance of dreams, and were drunk with the shade of nectar; they dreamed of love songs, and walked towards the silent years...
Intention: