I have planted a handful of sage seeds, and I don't remember you, but I miss you when I meet in the west pavilion.
The umbrella on the west pavilion window is finished, the flowers are scattered along the edge, the catkins are rubbed with pistils, and the pistils are wiped white, and the flowers on the other side are blooming, and the ink spots are blooming, scorching the flowers, and the sorrow is constant. As for the pavilion, people have gone now. I miss people when I see things, and I miss them so much that I lock them in the west pavilion and drift away. The red beans weep into acacia beans. How can this object express lovesickness? Things and people are not the same thing. When I dream back to that time, I will not remember it anymore, but the people will also be gone.