Who is that? In the moonlight with flute playing the that homesickness song, sad tune things filled with my heart is in the waste land; Who is through reading that homesick poems, wailing voice full of the infinite calm homesickness.
Once thought he accustomed to getting up early in the familiar city belongs to the early days, mountains and rivers, in my hometown, have alienated. But suddenly look back, just understand, like a flying kite, no matter where, the heart of rope bolt on the pomegranate tree in front of the hometown forever.
This a drizzle, wet with all of my memories, nostalgia is like a garden leek: long cut, cut grow again. Home everything is shaking in my mind, wandering in my mind, the mountain the water, and the simple people, form a picture in my memory, very beautiful is very beautiful - - - -
When the sky is no longer looked less than trailing geese fly south, when the pomegranate tree leaves yellow and blue, I the same homesickness and monkey around playing flute - - - - the hometown qingyuan.
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