Tell me. Not talking about life and death. Don't talk, don't say anything. It's hard to tell the truth. How about a mysterious prophecy, even if it is the way of heaven? I don't want to care anymore, I don't want to listen anymore, I don't want to talk anymore.
A night of lingering flowers and rain, who in the dream is waiting for you to come back after wandering. Falling in love with someone is beyond life and death, crazy, like falling in love and hurting. Let it go. Get away and look at this world of mortals. All idiots. Laughing and cursing, laughing and talking, love is love. If it is, it is, if it is not, it is not. Too many people love in a foggy way, pretending to be mysterious. When, on a cool night, in the quietest time, open your heart and take a look. For whom is the remaining warmth flowing?
Love is said to be the tenderness of the past, and a faint dream of peach blossoms still smiling at the spring breeze. There, there is a world full of peach blossoms and silent singing every night. That is, so far away, so far away. Far away, I could see the bonfires dotted with stars. The smoke from the kitchen is like a wisp reaching into the sky. It can no longer be held, so far away. My eyes were filled with confusion, but my heart was clear. This is a game that ends sooner or later. I'm waiting for the bright moon.
There is always a stream of light. It's been so long, with fireworks flying, you said, in this wasted time, I am already old, but you are not. What should I do, wait, wait. Seeing you with tears in your eyes, it turns out that it is too late in this life. The years have taken away so much, and in the passing light, I can only say, cherish it.
The sound of flute outside the curtain, the lights, the dream. Still so clear and long. Faintly, the bamboo forest is long.