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} 一条河}隔了一个世纪.阵凭岁月的皱纹蜿蜒成‘古老的象形文字那一颗想你的心4虔诚依旧抚摸着你的身躯无论是弧健如铁还是鲜血淋漓每一次切肤之痛都见百年抢桑历史闭上眼睛任耻辱的记忆在心头雕成永恒而灵魂却如凤凰涅架生生不息一百年了分不清是泪还是血睡梦中无数次拥你流泪
} A river is separated by a century. The array of years of wrinkles has become an ancient hieroglyph. The heart of your heart is still stroking your body. Whether it is an arc of iron or blood, every pain of the skin See the history of looting sang for a hundred years. The memory of the eyes closed and the shame is etched in the heart. The soul is eternal and the soul is alive. For a hundred years it is hard to tell whether it is tears or blood.