The wind rolls the curtains and clothes, and I feel sad leaning against the small building alone. Since the predecessors have gone, there are no red flowers and willows, and there is no news. I send my thoughts in the morning and evening, how sad!
It's already dusk and I'm back in the west. I have white hair on my temples and the tea is cold. How many more words can I say? Seeing the red maple with broken leaves as a close friend, but unable to taste it, all the voices are gone!