Murong Xue is a song written by Lin Ruoning, composed by Fang Datong, arranged by Chen Haoran (Chen Haoran) and Charles Lee, and sung by A Fei. June 2009 65438+1October 65438+June included in the album "Read Me". Murong Xue has been popular all over the Internet since its release, and is deeply loved by the audience.

The song is called Murong Xue, with the theme of scenery and picturesque. The lyrics point out that love is small and powerless. No matter how great love is, it is only love. After separation, between heaven and earth, between two people who once loved each other, it seems that I have never felt this way. No matter how you pursue arms, you can only stay out of your feelings in the end.

Murong Xue's lyrics

When I left, I was grateful. Divide a dish of acacia beans and send a canoe from winter to sun. Xia Hong melts you, the snow around you. Silk embroidery with gusu characteristics masks my thinness. I'm much happier when I think back clearly. But what am I without you? I'm not me. You turn around and walk away. It's not me in Suzhou. You cover me with beautiful scenery and live as well as ever. However, no one can touch me like you, just holding your cigarette. It's not me floating in the mountains and rivers, but bubbles floating on the river behind you, one after another.

But beauty can't be grasped tightly, and it will be broken if it is as stable as a cloud in Shi Shuo Xin Yu. The dust put out the fireworks, and how much was written. But write down that you are useful to happiness. But beauty can't be grasped tightly, and it will be broken if it is as stable as a cloud in Shi Shuo Xin Yu. Cultural relics are still difficult to compete with the fine snow in my heart. Who knows how cold I am? I can't understand this kind of scenery, only my feet can't move.

I'm not me. You turn around and walk away. It's not me in Suzhou. You cover me with beautiful scenery and live as well as ever. But, however, nothing more than holding your smoke waves, the boat river carries goods every day. You take away the flowers from spring ploughing and autumn harvest every day, and the snow scene on the river that exists in my mind truly belongs to me. In fact, beauty, after all, is too abstract, and has been hit home by literary books. That mirage is just me.