A whisper of wind, watching falling flowers and fireflies, the pink beauty sways, sways. The heavens have granted a passionate dream in the midst of flower fall. How can one bear the moon’s slim figure and solitary shadow, the lingering breeze, a sad melody, splendid splendid. If one says that three lifetimes of love and passion have been entangled, one agrees to meet again in the coming year. You chase your colorful dream, while I remain loyal to my feelings. You wander aimlessly, while I still linger in the midst of flower fall, linger, linger.
A whisper of wind, the last drop of rain under the eaves at midnight, dances with the wind and bids farewell to the cozy attachment, the persistent water droplets that wear away stone. For the vows that belong to you and me, the wind is tender and the rain is gentle, where there is you, there is birdsong and flowers. Even if life comes to an end, the rain will eventually turn into a cloud to accompany you through life and death, that is an eternal promise. Fly, fly, together we drift, drift.
A whisper of wind, a landscape of sorrow on the ground, messing up your hair, the skirt swirling gracefully, a moment of brilliance, a trace of yearning, turning into a rainy season of yearning. The rain soaks one’s face, but cannot unfold the sorrowful expression. When was it that the dream you had nurtured for years was blown away by the wind? Yet you remain unchanged, pursuing, pursuing. He never gave you hope, why did you indulge in dreams? Dreams will ultimately be blown away by the wind.
A whisper of wind, leaves fluttering and falling, you are the last leaf, and you accompany it as it dances, but you leave it in the corner, where it cries alone. The sea cannot imprison butterflies, if it is arrogant, why give it a colorful dream? Just as I am not your left hand, and you are not my right hand, but we once gave each other beauty. Watch the sea’s ripples as they dream of the butterfly, listen to the wind