The wind of longing blows by, whose eyes are they?
The mark of the cross, the salvation who longs for,
The crimson swaying in the cup is the sweet jade dew,
Even after thousands of years, love remains the same,
Open under the moonlight…
Even with all the changes, the only thing that remains unchanged is
It is the four-leaf clover that sways gently, conveying the touching story,
Talk quietly...
Intention: