岁月无痕却有声,风来无影但满袖。尘世无量,梦逐清风,烟花易冷,人事易分,流年有序,谁主沉浮?俗世有静好,花落香未散,参差是清欢。流年如风,吹落一地寂寥,一地微凉。伤事太多,人在江湖,有时,似乎连回乡探亲多趟都成了一种奢望。小时候,哭着哭着就笑了;长大后,笑着笑着就哭了;年迈后,说着说着就沉默了。岁月埋 There is no trace of the years there is sound, but the wind is full of sleeves. Impeccable world, dreams of breeze, easy to fireworks, personnel easy to divide, fleeting and orderly, who the main ups and downs? Secular quiet, flowers fragrant, mixed is Qing Huan. Fleeting like the wind, blowing a solitude, one cool. Too many injuries, people in rivers and lakes, and sometimes, it seems that even home trip to visit relatives have become a luxury. When I was young, I laughed and cried and laughed; when I was grown up, I cried with a smile and a smile; after I was old, I was silent. Years buried