drekaye875 (drekaye875)
Then I heard the drum of time, beating the broken bones in the dark night of the primitive forest.
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You stumble and end up with a wound, as if it was for the remnants of youth
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When around the wheat field for wild chestnut, strong for the monk's house cook mountain soup.
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Les années sont un voyage sans retour. Le bon et le mauvais sont des paysages.
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你说你会爱我一辈子，但是我居然忘了问是这辈子，还是下辈子。
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