The moon puts away its soft wings and welcomes the lover to live in the dream of love. Missing is a fish, diving into a moist dream, and letting people who miss each other talk to each other, the moon in the dream must be round.
The moon is like a small boat, slipped out of the home of the harbor, when to see her, probably, is in the next Mid-Autumn Festival.
I still love you, even if we are far away, thousands of miles apart.Love, still the same.
This is the homesickness of the wanderer.
I love you three thousand times.
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