Purple Paths Beneath the Drooping Willows

I crossed the river to gather lotus blossoms, where the orchid banks are thick with fragrant herbs. I picked them, but who can I give them to? The one I long for is far away!

I turn back to gaze at my old home. The long road stretches on without end. Though we share one heart, we live apart, grieving until the end of our days.

An ancient ballad has been sung from generation to generation, enduring without end. A new story is about to unfold.

No matter the passing years or the changing seasons,

there are always dreams that bring us back,

and the old saying goes:

Where the heart finds peace, there is home.

From here onward, the years begin anew.