I am going to be reincarnated, floating on the stone bridge that is shrouded in clouds and mist all year round. The flowers of death blooming beside the bridge are in full swing and are dazzlingly red. The rolling Styx River, carrying the mournful cries of the undead, was far and near. I was very anxious, very anxious, because when I passed by the Sansheng Stone, I saw you and the punishment of the Buddha.
The crystal tears are still hanging on my face. On the Sansheng Stone, your waist is straight in front of me. Your figure is so thin, but you look so firm. I heard an ancient voice coming from a distance like a sigh: "Falling into reincarnation for hundreds of lives, cutting off the memory, if we recognize each other, we will be fulfilled. If we miss it, it is fate." Then came your soft eyes, filled with clear and bright lake water. You stared at me, and your warmth came from your hands. It was the first time our fingers were intertwined. I heard you say: "Don't be afraid, I'm waiting for you."
I raised my head and drank Meng Po's decoction. A smooth feeling passed down my throat. My memory gradually blurred, but your voice was extremely clear, like the gentle wind in spring in April, blowing through my eardrums: "Don't be afraid, I'll wait for you."
I have been obsessed with you for thousands of reincarnations, just to spend time with you once. If longing had a shape, what would it be like?