绯云碎玉在枝头燃烧，樱花将春天的情书写满整个巷陌。 每片花瓣都是被春风裁碎的晚霞，带着晨露的吻痕坠入时光的河流。 她们用七日花期丈量永恒的距离，在凋零中完成最盛大的绽放 —— 漫天飘落的不是叹息，而是写给人间的诗行。 当最后一片绯色融入春泥，根系正悄然编织着下一场盛世，恰似生命在轮回中续写未完的传奇。 她们教会我们，刹那即永恒，破碎即圆满。

Crimson mist ignites the branches, as cherry blossoms pen spring's love letters across every alley. Each petal is a sunset torn by wind, falling with dawn's dewdrop kisses into time's current. They measure eternity in seven fleeting days, blooming most grandly in their fade—the falling petals are not sighs, but verses scribbled to earth. As the last blush merges with soil, roots silently weave the next carnival, like life rewriting its unfinished legend in cycles. They whisper that eternity dwells in moments, and perfection lies in fragments.