Only if the stundent could sit in the front row of the teacher ...

Will be very deep happy

Even the eyes are already blinded

Or the ears were burning

Still be happy in the front row with the teacher

Our school is so pure like those white sea clouds on the Jade Mountain

You can only see and feel it

But cannot touch it

Like the winds of sorrow

Blowing endless toward the East

 Can you feel the color of the wind

Or just it a thousand winds

Our hope will be fullfilled?