A trace of love, growing in the greasy drizzle, on the heels of the Bird of Happiness, pursues that dream of you in the wind.
一缕柔软的情思，种在蒙蒙细雨里，紧跟着青鸟的芳痕，以风的姿态追寻着那个关于你的梦。
Leaning against the charming light eyes, a trace of warmth halo in volumes per inch left in white, are permeated with continuous love.
依着旖旎的光线，眼里，便会有一丝温情晕开，在书卷的每一寸留白里，都渗透着绵绵的爱恋。
No love is always the wind, will hold thousands of times without a trace.
得不到的爱人总归是风，强留千百次也会无踪。
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