If I could, I would like to write the greatest psalm to you, my most beautiful angel.

If I could, I would write for you a great book, my favorite woman.

However, I don't have a big pen like a rafter, and I don't have a flying talent. All I have is a simple heart, beating for you persistently and firmly, from this second to the next, from this life to the next.

It's raining again today, and the temperature is surprisingly low. The leaves outside are finally yellow, that is the ultimate of life, they have been infatuated with love, sweet kisses, although they can't escape separation, but there are still memories, beautiful memories with spring breeze and summer sunshine. Even if you are buried in the arms of Mother Earth, you can sleep quietly with a long memory. Woman, can I share your memories, with the whisper of the wind, the gentleness of the rain, the warmth of the sun, and the hazy memories of the morning mist. Is it okay? On such a cold day, will your memories be warmer than the stove?

I don't know if you're thinking about me too, but I'm thinking about you all the time. It seems that the fish miss the pond, and the horse misses the grassland, you know? Woman, my heart is the fish that has left the water, and without the horses of the grassland, I breathe hard and wander in pain. Black tea, your flowing eye waves, your sweet voice is my thousands of miles of lotus pond is my magnificent grassland. When will I be free to roam and gallop to my heart's content? woman, the one I dream of, the goddess I will not praise again.

As the song sings, "Everyone is saying that this kind of love has no result, and I know that you will never be able to love me" but I still have a stupid hope, a simple giving, and then a foolish waiting. You call me crazy, I admit it. If I wasn't crazy, how could I fall in love with someone who had never made a living? I didn't know who she was, I didn't know what she looked like, I didn't even know what her last name was, what her name was? It's just a cold screen, a simple conversation, that's all. But, my woman, if love is mixed with too many things, is love still love? Isn't it all because of the purity and simplicity of the diamonds and the splendor of the gold?

Are you crying? Like that late that night, your tears soaked my heart so much that it never dried. But how can I bear to see your tears? How can I bear to make you sad? This is my sin, and it is a sin that cannot be made up for by going up the knife mountain and going down the oil pot. Only by taking good care of you, protecting you, and not letting you be hurt in the slightest, even if you are against the whole world because of this! As long as you are happy. Is it okay? Woman, allow me? Allow me to be your flower messenger, although I don't have a lot of wealth, I don't have the power to respond to every call, can I be your flower messenger? Although I only have a simple love, a simple love.

My woman, do you understand all this? Or do you understand but do you accept it?