Last night, the snowflakes fluttered, like the purest dancers in the world, dancing. Despite the hazy mist, I can still feel the subtle emotion of your departure, like the lines of the palm, clearly depicting the prosperity of our past. That prosperity, like last night's hangover, was left in the long river of time, and it can never be recovered. The once spiritual traction has now turned away from each other and disappeared into the vast sea of people.
Who is whispering in the dark night, and that voice is like a lost wandering spirit, weaving our story into fragments? Do those fragments of the past sink into the deep sea or go with the flow? How to bury the tenderness of the past? Does it bury the joy of the flowers, or the sorrow of the flowers?
Your appearance has carved an eternal mark on my heart, like an immortal joy. I poured the cups of the feast and let them flow through the years. However, that initial longing always lingered in my soul and occupied the years of my displacement.
I still linger on the shore of the years, waiting for an unpredictable ending. I would like to turn into a lovesick debt for you in this life, and become an eternal concern in your heart. No matter how time passes, I will still be here waiting for your return.