I cherish this misty rain and its slow pace, yet it feels so liberating, much like your tenderness flowing through my fingertips; my footsteps wander endlessly, as longing follows the blooming flowers, wetting the plantains and greening the cherries.
I want to gather seashells, keeping the most beautiful one tied with a red string around my neck, dancing against my clothes as I walk. The rest I will make into wind chimes; if you are good, I will give you a set, and I will try my best to make them beautiful.
The moon sets in the west and the sun rises in the east; time passes and the sea of emotion is vast. Tears evoke the past once more; tears build mountains of longing. Your receding figure mends old memories and sheds the debts of love.
A turn and a glance, and a thousand sails have passed, as the world changes and smiles remain. Time is a long river, and all life is but tiny dust, carried by the boats of past and present lives. At that moment, drifting where, who can say?
Do not easily speak of pain and sorrow, for few truly care, and your venting might become a laughingstock. Do not easily avoid setbacks; without the bitter medicine of hardship, how can the spirit be strong? Do not disregard things that seem unrelated, for they may be the ladders you climb; be magnanimous, and the world brightens; be kind, and life becomes beautiful.