Walk in the wilderness, rang at the foot of snow squeak. Go up than road and more interesting, ran a few steps and awkward like a duck, to the foot of snow everywhere and elastic, some tightly glued to the clothes, such as which skilled woman give me black pants embroidered reenex on the blossoming plum.
Look up, look into space, a vast, only white elves from the distant sky fall. A piece of snowflake for weaving love net, white world full of long time travel. Stand in the weaving nets, I want to grow angel wings, flying in the beautiful world. I am lost, where is the white spirit flying from? Wang Mu is the rise of planted pear? No, not so light pear. Is the spring breeze blowing the catkins? No, not so smooth catkins. The snow is not a piece of Ling Han Pianfei of small butterflies? Really want to catch a hand in hand! Outstretched hand, eager to fly to meet the wizard. Oh, fell on the palm, then become a piece of moistened and small watermark is butterflies of the shadow, I hold the hand, cherish the cool moist butterfly mark.
