In the city where four seasons are distinctively divided,autumn is short.
When it comes to our minds to see the lotuses, they are already bearing the hint of withering.
No one told them what time is,yet they follow the way time goes, flowing with the seasons.
When walking in the city is under regulation,
Let's not complain that flowers wither too early.
Maybe it is us who broke the rule of nature.
The rosy color in mememories will be brought up again,
Like the playmates who keep coming to our minds, with a snug feeling of happiness.
Their faces I cannot recall.
The remainder of pink on the petal,is the only clue I have that leads into my memories.
A clear drop of water rests on the lotus leaf with a turbid pond below.
This single globule shines because of its stay on the GREen.
If tears come from sorrow, and if tears are bitterly salty,
Would a lotus leaf make it better?
Until you turned away, I found nothing is reversible.
From the unsettling air we inhale the indispensable oxygen.
We will grow old as well, and not even care about settling down.
Departure
Without a word of farewell.
Maybe your friends are still warning you of the haste,
You are already here with me.
I suddenly think of the word "eternity".
Such a distant concept...
