All the endings have been written
All the tears have also left
Suddenly forget is how one starts
In the past old summer day.
No matter how I go back
The young like you are only passing by
And your smiling face extremely shallow and pale
Gradually disappear in the group behind the LAN
As the Yellow flyleaf is open
It will be the fate of the extremely poor binding
The tears I read and reread
But have to admit
Youth is a book too hasty
