笔若是篙,行至今夜,又于月光中泊舟听水。似有歌声寻来,便知是你把旧事谱成一阕新词望向我的方向。当年我因年轻而任性,决绝地挥出一剑生生斩断冷暖,你把暖送给我飞扬的长发;自己却包裹在对我的回忆中征伐那些冷,将心瘦成茧,不肯再容纳谁的顾盼。就这样你的目光在我冷如秋山的背影里一寸寸折弯。你把时光紧攥在掌心,一程就是十五年。月光水浅,任灞桥、南浦、长亭更短亭,一律被时光望穿。这一程追溯让我那一笔东篱菊瘦在秋风中悄然皲 If the pen is 篙, line until tonight, again in the moonlight boat to listen to water. Seems to have songs to find, I know you put the old story into a new word in my direction. When I was young and self-willed, decisively to play a sword to cut off the life and death, you gave me warm hair flying; I was wrapped in my memory of the conquest of those cold, the heart cocoon, refused to Who can hold the stare again. In this way your eyes bent in the cold as Akiyama back inch inch bend. You clutched the time in your palm, one stroke is fifteen years. Moonlight shallow water, Ren Qiao bridge, Nampo, pavilion shorter kiosks, all be the time to wear. This process traced back to let me that a thin Sedge Julei quietly in the autumn wind