When the wind rises, I come, do you see? The brown cicada clothes hanging from the ancient trees are my shadow. Shrouded in mist, I had already crossed the path of reincarnation and waited a lot

When the wind rises,

I'm coming

Do you see that?

The brown cicada coat hanging from the ancient tree,

It's my shadow.

Towards the fog,

Not counting,

I have crossed the path of samsara,

How long did you wait?

The wind and sand covered my thin bones,

The cold rain wet my soul,

However, I still can't stop my steps towards you.

When the flowers bloom,

On the cold branches of that early spring, there is a fangfei with tears,

It's the acacia I've been piling up for generations.

The years have weathered my bones,

Years have buried my tendons,

I am left with only the loneliness of this paper,

Weak body,

But it is still persistent,

To blossom for you in the midst of half-lightness.

Entanglement with you,

As if it were destined to be intertwined in the lifeblood,

In the world,

But the passages that are incompatible and cannot be superimposed,

This fateful fate,

How to act,

None of them can fall to a perfect stop.

It's just me,

Finally it came,

Following the sweet fragrance of memory, igniting the longing with the withered body,

Will the years,

Ground into the most intense ink fragrance,

Rolls of paper,

Depicted over and over again,

Row by line,

Word for word,

And then the pages dried,

A plain pen,

Write all the wind and snow, red dust cold and warm.

If one day,

I'm tired,

When Shaohua goes far, when reincarnation evolves into illusion,

Your heart,

No more falling into my eyes,

I was there,

Will there be no thoughts?