I look at the sky in a hurry and embrace the vague outline of the world like a phoenix. The wind that never stops, the force of the hurricane, the rolling dance of the hurricane, staring at the mountain river I see again. A bright moon rises from the black cloud edge and leans toward the field. The light of the moon, the silver of the flying, the pride of the dot. The moonlight drifts the landscape, swims the sky, creates the string of the dream.

My ambition lies in the clouds, the wings of the sky, the twinks of the sky, into the dark valleys, to release the light smoke of the ghost. The moonlight of the night, kissing the air Mian clip, recommend the white clouds beautiful wings to paint the sky, creating black and white to dissolve, cultivated my mind in sha tin, slowly up the whole sky.

The moon cut the ropes of the stars, ironed the waves of the sky, set up light smoke clouds, and threw open the world to the world. I am in this quiet night, want to drive out does not need to illuminate dark night, the moonlight in the dark night to dye white mist figure, the wind billow, release beautiful night. The moon of the clouds, the grace, the charming moonlight is the dust cloth of the swab, the light smoke cloud, always flickering in the sky, spinning and flying. The beauty of the moon is so beautiful, like a dream painted with love, flying over me like an oil painting home. The light of seepage, the power of stretching. I stood in the dark, shining stars, glowing with life, hugging my night sky, filling up the wind of playing. The luxurious scenery, combined with the pale time, floats in the clouds with the sky, the perfect hour, and the garden under the sky, generously put in the years. The brilliant picture, burning the silk light that the Milky Way longs for, draws the dream of strange beauty, and creates extraordinary splendor.

At night, the dim light, like the surging sea, hovered in the hidden mountains, and sketched the dancing notes that led me into the sky. At night the wind was weaving the swing, and the sound of the waves tormented the dark sky. I saw the elder running music, were standing on the back of the earth connection bending line and the abundance of rhythm of the wind, the beautiful beautiful sound chasers, singing, shake things. I was drunk by the song, and in the false eyes I could not resist the soothing pleasure of beating my glad eyes and waking up my whole life. On lonely nights, the stars have wings and cheer like rabbits. I step on the music spray, hug the difficult language, embrace the wind net, like soaring wings, dedicated to my unlost glory.

From my desire to fly to the more beautiful than the moon in the sea, the sea distant ship driving deep black, roaming in the moonlight, one spot, like a storm mellow fragrance of flowers, a quiet sea spray, flash across the valley, through the deep ocean, shouted at my feet: artificial intelligence to create the beautiful. The vast ocean returns to the waves, and the time of the ocean, as long as you are greedy for a fortune, the sea of blue ripples will turn you upside down. I know that only wide breast can have great possession. I know that the night of music, I love the lost time, comfort the peaceful wound. Only the wandering rose fragrance, will groan in the desolate solitude, will fly to the glorious paradise in the dream of the misty. I smell the fragrance of flowers, I shiver, I neighing in the open. I will transform the dazzling beauty into the whole sky, the brilliant starry sky, the low kiss of the wild and the curving curve of the wind. I am separated by the steps of time, painted on the night of ink, through the overlapping shadows, the roll of life, the harvest wind and the world of enron smile.

My mind is stored in the vast earth, in the empty world, gazing at the world, comforting the beautiful world, and resonating with the universe. I like every day and night, the song that flies, makes me happy. The stars love to walk arm in arm and love the whole world. The art of the sea performance, mocking the decaying bird language, is not sticky. My depressed cannot send, eager to cluster tear clouds, pursuit of rose, rose scent will roar, like a natural and unrestrained delicate and charming moonlight, crowded into the sparkling starlight palace, diarrhea under the moon light, shun heavy towards the mountain cliffs, escape time. I hunt for the night that will be extinguished, silence music language and sand, embrace the melting of the night, the world garden under the sky.