走出北方的雪野,逃出苍白的记忆,久远的希冀从撩乱的发梢走来。春天的脚步踏进河流,冰块便在冷冷的河水中日渐憔悴。封入冬眠积雪的平沙落雁挣脱季节的纠缠,用越发明朗的哲思送走窗前的寒凌,唱出第一声春归何处。蛰居的家族在春的喷涌中伸了个懒腰,探头看外面的世界还没有绿的疯长,又赶忙缩回故里。它们总以为时候还早。 Out of the snowy north, escaped pale memories, longing hope come from the tousled hair. The footsteps of spring step into the river, and the ice cubes are getting haggard in the cold river. Filled with hibernation snow Ping Ping Luo Yan get rid of the entanglement of the season, with more and more clear philosophical away Han Ling in front of the window, sing where the first spring. The family living in the nectar stretches a lazy waist in the spewing of the spring, the outer world of the probe is not yet soaring in greenness, and the hometown is quickly retracted. They always think it’s still early.