Does the cloud always disappear
Is the stone always silent
Is the river water always past
Whether the seagull is always floating
It does not seem so dear
In the pseudo-life spots
There's a story you might not have met
About the secrets at the end of the thread
Up the trail on the jasmine grove
A sense of waving carefully
Top of the wind pigeon wing blow
A love present suddenly arrived
So be thankful once
Then it all feels valuable