Butterfly falls in love with flowers

Breeze blowing, standing in the high-rise,

Sad to see through the spring,

Himself to appear in the horizon,

Sunset lights up the color of grass,

Who does not know the last words mean.

I hope the mess can be drunk,

Drinking wine, singing,

Or do not intend to force laughter,

The body does not regret the gradual wasting,

To those who loved and haggard.