What is the original text of Jing M.Guo's "Hymn of Light and Ink" written in Jay Chou's photo album?

This is the day I dreamed of a long time ago.

The whistle sharply blended into the background, and the cheers became a halo.

Basketball with quiet left hand and infinite future with right hand.

Here it is.

In the distant past, I heard them say

One day, you will perform a perfect slam dunk in the highest place in the world.

The opening picture will always be fixed in the first chapter of memory.

The outline of the light carving unfolded in the suffocating silence.

Then the wind will blow the ink into the universe and into the long galaxy for thousands of years.

Solidified into slow songs and divine comedy of countdown.

You must have heard the dull countdown through the top of the dark clouds.

Those sighs of yesterday.

Confrontation between glory and loneliness and sharp confrontation

Face it in a friendly way

Pale, silent, long confrontation

Confrontation with consumption

Those loud voices in my heart

Like a mushroom cloud on the moon, it exploded, the earth fell, and everything was silent.

A century-old short mirror that flashed in a hurry

Three Wan Li in this life

A floating red sun will turn around and sign Zhu Yan's words in white.

Leaning on the fence leads to sorrow, and the wind leads to flowers and leaves.

The lights in the distance are quiet and bright.

A few years passed

The waterfront shines on people in pairs, and a hundred years return to dust.

Dream pillow blue beauty tears cool autumn wind deep.

The courtyard is cold and rainy, lonely and green.

How to remember the stain of the past in the afterlife after bathing?

Warm ink marks in cold weather

The flow law of yellow sand in the ancient music blown by the north wind in Mobei

If there is a moment in my life, I will remember myself in the afterlife.

Warm bed and cold ironing

The light warmed the fog, and the city woke up in bits and pieces in the morning.

The noise dispersed like running water, and the whistle floated across the vast river.

The teenager in my memory flies by in the winter morning.

Keep in the dark

Evaporate in the sun

Gain from glory

Disappear in loneliness

Cold rebuilds bones, while wind and snow rust the chest.

You are still standing on the hill that others look up to.

Pines and cypresses are dotted with green.

Snow piles up into dreams.

A long sigh under the wings

You are in the center of the world.

You are behind the sound.

You used to feel the sorrow of the world with your soul.

You once carried a whole sunset silently.

You have walked slowly from the end of the world.

Those voices from the end of the universe

This is a hymn of ink and light.

Not many years have passed.

But the wind and frost also brushed the head.

In each other's silent sight

Slowly flowing is silent boiling blood.

I grew up in your shadow.

Chapters and sentences have been solidified by time in the form of ink.

You are thousands of miles away. You are at Suzaku Copper Terrace.

You stay away from my eyes and words.

Take words as poems, and go with your thoughts.

The light was heavily postmarked. Go ahead.

How to define sadness in noise or loneliness painted on the back after the scene?

At the moment, the air is filled with the familiar fragrance of sunshine and running water.

Those summer mornings

Those winter evenings

Young memories are shining specimens.

Your eyes, your breath

Walk with loneliness, walk with darkness and walk with emptiness.

These are medals.

The pallor of the conversation disappeared into the darkness.

Only you stand firm.

That's the creeping root system under your feet.

Hold fast to the world.

You are not a lonely planet floating in the universe.

Sometimes, noise can't compare with silence.

Sometimes, people can't compete with the vast sea.

At such a moment, there are many sounds exploding on the eardrum.

I saw those flashes. I also saw the dark corner behind those flashes.

I heard all kinds of voices.

They are talking to me-colorful poems or black and white honors.

So, this is-

Destinations along the road.

You come from the end of the world, so you will eventually go to the end of the world.

In a chessboard world, you slowly cross the universe.

The sound and picture were frozen in the last second explosion.

Tears mixed with dreams rolled and evaporated into the sky.

So, here it is.

What people say—

The chirp left in the sky

Poetry sung on the earth

It is a declaration of loneliness and pride, and a praise of ink and light.