The Last Night and I Can Have a Lot of Runes of Magic Gold as I Want

Another night, it is still so quiet, and can hear the sound in the ground under snow. The yellow leaves no longer nestled close to the pebbles path, they have fled the world, can no longer hear riding on a whispering sound above.
Time so suddenly dies, lost no trace. I do not know the day and the night boundary is what, also do not know the night is when coming in my side, like standing on the beach, watching the water days where I tried to connect, swam to there, but could not touch.
Quiet night is always my spirit, not the day of numerous noisy, only eternal rests, here comes up my thoughts. My thoughts relegated to my belief, belongs to my religion, although all religions are if not. Bright months hanging in the deep skies end its light so dazzling, but without the sun, but again like soft delicate a thin light fog shrouded. Just as those who shout acerbity philosophy theory, confusion and meditation is the only road.
Dark as it was really not so terrible, terrible is facing it, I couldn't do anything. Like previous puts it, in the dark out candles wandering in the library and not like touch books. Dark and not pejorative negative appellation, at least in my view it is.
Cold wind scattered all worry, will they floating in the air, but didn't run. Cheat warm still cold season, three cups of two bright wines, late wind nasty, the hardest interest, the feeling is Li Qingzhao. Streams of Cambridge, is above especial classic.
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