There are always many bars in the city
Alcohol hides many people's stories
But I am not used to drinking
Not good at singing
I can only honestly think of a girl
She is beautiful and delicate
A bright red rose
I always speculate about her appearance when I am not sober
She lives in my words
It is not just a name
It has become a symbol of life
It keeps infecting me and attracting me
Let me Singing like a believer
Perhaps this is a sign of ignorance of the world
At an age that is ignorant of the world
The phrase "I like you" is rampant
Like advertising flyers everywhere
It sells a kind of self-movation
But I still love it too much
I think I must be a bad poet
In the self-denial over and over again
Repeating one thought:
I like you, very seriously
An old poem, here’s a special one
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