We rise and fall in the unceasing river of time, sink and drift in the flood of reality, surfacing only now and then for a breath. We look back on the past and mourn our former selves. Growing up is like a drifting leaf: no matter how many twists and turns lie along the way, it will eventually crumble into the earth, its hidden fragrance unknown, yet somehow unchanged. Grief, listening to rain aboard a lonely boat; joy, riding out the storm alone, drunk on the battlefield. Grief and joy entwine, tears streaming down our faces.
I envy pure love!
How sad it is to see no leaves when the flowers bloom! Where can I smell the fragrance of flowers when the leaves are growing? Only for the other side; helpless...
Hand in hand and walking calmly along the way The flowers blooming on the street slowly return Cherish the present moment Cherish the people in front of you
The other shore, the other shore, I want the person who can ferry me to the other shore. . .