When you are old, your hair is gray and you are sleepy,
Sitting tiredly by the fire, I took down this book,
Reading slowly, the look in my eyes when I was chasing my dream
Your soft look and deep halo.
How many people have loved your fleeting figure,
I have loved your beauty, with hypocrisy or true love,
Only one has ever loved you with the heart of a pilgrim,
I love the traces of time on your sad face.
He bent over the stove mantle with his eyebrows lowered,
Worried and thoughtful, murmuring,
How does love pass away, how does it climb up the mountains,
How to hide my face among the stars.
Liu Chuxia was sitting on the bench on the balcony. On the horizon was the faint light after the sunset, and behind her was the soft light from the room. She tilted her head and leaned on Xiao Cheng's shoulder. Xiao Cheng was reading his book "Melancholic Tropics" with his head down.
"Xiao Cheng." Liu Chuxia called him.
"Huh?"
"It's great, we can watch the sunset together again."
She said softly, the smile slowly spreading on her lips.