Reeds grow thick and green, and white dew turns to frost. The one I long for is on the far bank. I go upstream to seek her, but the road is rough and long. I go downstream to find her, and she seems to stand in the middle of the water.
Reeds grow lush and green, and the white dew has yet to dry. The one I long for is by the water's edge. I go upstream to seek her, but the road is rough and steep. I go downstream to find her, and she seems to stand on a shoal in the water.
Reeds grow dense and green, and the white dew has yet to fade. The one I long for is by the water's brink. I go upstream to seek her, but the road is rough and winding. I go downstream to find her, and she seems to stand on an islet in the water.
This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual people or events is purely coincidental. Do not imitate anything in this story.
