Women of the City

If someone tells you that I love you, don't believe it. Loving you is just a legend floating in the wind, it is not true, it will never be true, and it will never be true. In Yangzhou in March, catkins are like silk and fluttering all over the city. I stood on the bow of the boat, letting the catkins spread over my shoulders and eyebrows as thinly as snow. There are still traces of his kiss on my eyebrows. That light, as light as smoke kiss, I don't know where it is now. He called her "Where is the place where the bright moon blows the flute together, where is the place where I can meet the beautiful woman I have been dreaming of" - these are his original words.