He leaned against the lakeside fence,
All that is left in the world is bright sunshine, wind-supporting weeping willows, brocade-like flowers, and shimmering waves.
The sound of the piano and the chirping of gulls linger in my ears,
The people around me have picturesque eyebrows and clear smiles,
Holding up the bread sticks, waiting for the red-billed gulls to fly by and peck at them,
Life is so leisurely, and I only feel it is false.