The silver bed is asphalt,
Sweeping powder and autumn crickets.
When picking incense, I miss money everywhere.
Why can't I express my regrets when I find green leaves?
The corridor is full of lovesickness,
The falling moon becomes a lonely figure.
The backlight and the moon are in the shadow of the flowers,
It has been ten years of traces and ten years of heart.
One person has to grow old together
enough