If the parasol tree enters the world and turns into longing, the wind will say farewell and the mountains and rivers will peel off into clouds and smoke. The plum rain season extinguishes the muddy years. You and I can embrace a few pieces of wind and snow again, drunkenly watch the flowing clouds and walk far away to the end of the world, a piece of lavender concern. I am sad about leaving, standing alone in front of the window. You shed tears in the May snow, and the autumn flowers are cold when we say goodbye. I smile at the beauty in the evening. Never to return, we embrace each other in the wind and snow of the sycamore trees, carving oaths in the sky, a fallen leaf is a reincarnation, we love each other in the wind and snow of the sycamore trees, the tears that we dare not shed condense the remaining eternity.