夕阳照耀,

                晚风轻拂,

                撩乱了你的秀发,

                是它在林间追逐.

                它不懂顽皮,

                它不知理智,

                它把爱洒过,

                留下的却是点点滴滴.

                它不是春,

                却有春的气息;

                它不是夏,

                却有夏的足迹;

                它不是秋,

                却有秋的特色;

                它不是冬,

                却有冬的味道.

                晚风拂过,

                拉出了人间最动人的歌.

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