That year when the cherry blossoms were falling and it was raining, he was playing his jade flute.
Today there are broken cherry blossoms all over the ground, and other people's flutes are broken.
I asked him if he regretted it.
He replied, no regrets.
That year the bamboo forest was quiet and she was cooking a small meal under the eaves.
Today, the green bamboo has withered, and she is left alone to build a ruined monument.
I asked her if she regretted it.
She replied, no regrets.
Neither he nor she regrets it. But why do I regret it?