When I was young, I also experienced the desolation of those years and months;
I stood at the end of summer, looking back at those blazing years, with vicissitudes of life that did not match my age rising in my heart.
My dear classmates, after saying goodbye, when will we see you again?
And my dear, dear gangster, you tilted your hat that was originally on, and waved your hand to me with a wicked smile.
If you didn't say goodbye, would we never see you again?
Conception: