The tears of infatuation become traces, and the rain turns silk curtains into curtains.
The flaming summer welcomes the sad rain,
Like spring in winter, there are tears of sadness.
No base, no ruffian and empty dust,
No tears, no hatred, empty into ashes.
The sound of horse hooves pierced my eardrums;
Looking back suddenly,
Only then did you know what it brought.
Perhaps this love affair was a fire that burned away all my passion.
But I am willing to wait, guarding our memories and watching the bright and unpredictable years.
Conception: