In that life,
I kowtow and hug the dust, not to worship Buddha, but just to stay close to your warmth.
I have traveled across hundreds of thousands of mountains, not for the next life, but just to meet you on the road.
I have turned all the prayer wheels, not for salvation, but just to touch your fingerprints.
I have traveled across thousands of mountains and rivers, not because of my previous life, but because I want to step on your mark again.
A floating dream, a hundred times, a thousand times, the rest of life is like a hiss, and the scenery is like a shuttle.
If you want to talk, you still have to stop. If you want to talk, you still need to stop. How can I bear the words of love that make beauty drunk?