The wind leans against the railing, and one enjoys singing. The willows cling to the water and invade the shore. From a distance, one can see the blooming flowers in the center of the lake, and one can hear the gurgling water and leaping fish up close.
The green mountains are back again, the green water is cold, and the fingers are condensing to pluck the heartstrings. I cry silently to find a close friend, and the strings are restored to move the world.
I have been looking for a close friend for thousands of years, is it him? Or him?
Or has the world changed, and that person has already lost his soul in the dim light?
Who I am? Is he a person who is ignorant and has no desires, or is he a person who is crazy about piano?
Or am I no one, things have changed and people have changed, and I am no longer that person?
In the reincarnation of fate, are we no longer the lovers we were before? Perhaps thousands of years of vicissitudes have cleansed our souls...
I don't understand, who can?
Only the strings move... It knows but never says...
A slight tremor has overturned our world...