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简介：The blooming flowers in spring, the wind in autumn and the setting sun in winter, I once thought this ignorantly in my melancholy youth. The windmill circulates every day in the song of the four seasons, and I grow up year by year in the poems of wind, flowers, snow and moon. . . Yellowed photos, old letters and faded Christmas cards, maybe you have forgotten the songs I wrote for you when you were young, right?