Listening to the wind and telling the truth is the secret I have hidden throughout my youth.
I used "Wind" as my pen name and painted hyacinths all over the city.
But I still dare not draw my thoughts into your world.
You are a young man walking in the sun, bright and dazzling,
I am a person who hides in the shadows, even approaching with caution.
I hide all my cares and reluctances in paintings and in the wind.
Waiting for you to discover, waiting for you to understand, waiting for you to look back.
But until the end, the wind stopped, the letter did not arrive, and the people did not return.
The flower language of hyacinth is rebirth and nostalgia.
My rebirth is meeting you;
My farewell was never spoken.
The man who listened to the wind finally left his regrets in the March wind.
Purpose: to record a youthful secret love hidden in the wind, and to pay tribute to those unspoken love and regrets.