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We can't say anything The wind outside the window eavesdrops every second They know all the existed or disappeared languages on this earth And understand the metaphors hidden beneath the stories and songs

We can't see anything The sun above our head is too dazzling The flowers and grasses in red and green Would be plated with an unlaunderable golden yellow sooner or later

We can't breathe loudly either Let's leave the sweet air to the senior and young Happiness would eventually end Who could have a peaceful sleep before this?