When the day falls, the day will die, looking at the scarlet red, and I can not help thinking: if tomorrow, the tree is in, the house is in, you are in, I am in, this friendship does not change, even though the days are like water, no waves and no marks, I also know enough.
The pomegranate flowers are scarlet red.
The wind must fly away and should not stay. There is no heart and no stagnation. Let us make a white cloud, look at the life of the scarlet red, come and go, without trace.
Around them, the trees had started to turn, ochre and orange, scarlet red.
