[The mortal world has tears, the broken bridge has affection]

Tears in the mortal world, do not ask about love; the Broken Bridge of East Lake expresses heartfelt feelings.\ (right) — Preface\(left) Tonight, Bincheng appears particularly cool under the baptism of rain, yet my thoughts flow endlessly in my heart. The myriad lights outside the window cannot illuminate the sorrow in my heart, but the drizzling rain penetrates both my heart chambers. Alone in the west tower, leaning on the railing and gazing into the distance, the endless autumn sentiment quietly grows in the weary heart on this rainy night. Autumn rain drizzles, autumn wind rustles; in this season, who misses whom, and who is hurt by whom.\ I look up, the misty rain and heavy dusk of Guangdong's sky seem so perplexing. The drifting rain moistens my hairline, obscures my eyes, kisses my warm skin, and chills the heart. Rain-soaked fallen leaves flutter like butterflies past my toes, carrying sorrow into the distance. The shadows of the trees sway, the lonely figure stretches longer, reflecting points of cold light in the accumulated autumn waters. I scoop a handful of autumn rain, expressing desolation in the rainy night.\ The night is still so wild, the unending autumn sorrow grows recklessly; I want to forget so many things, yet memories remain. In the mortal world's comings and goings, walking and stopping, it is still you. Someone once said that giving a cigarette could make them forget the whole world, but I cannot; the cigarette between my fingers still burns, smoke rings linger in the air, and my heart continues to drift.\ The lonely pendulum swings across the night sky, extracting fragments of the heart, replaying all the past in my mind. Three years ago on the Broken Bridge, you held a floral umbrella gracefully on the bridge; I picked up my brush, your delicate eyebrows, your gentle steps, all appeared on my canvas. I plucked the jade zither and sang with you, expressing heartfelt feelings on the strings that I still remember. The swallows flew apart; now we each went to our so-called distant places. But my obsession and madness for you remain unchanged since ancient times; and you? Have you found a chest to lean on, and do you still keep me hidden deep inside? I once thought I would no longer ask about the mortal world, to become an old fisherman fishing on the river, or to be a recluse, watching the sunrise and sunset. Why must I do this? The mortal world has tears; yesterday is not today and should be forgotten. What do wins and losses matter, as fleeting encounters have exiled that youthful time.\ Why painfully cling, think wildly through the night, leaving oneself wounded all over? Life is like a game of chess; it is better to be a spectator, to savor a cup of fragrant tea, watch the fallen grandeur of love, and see the rain curtain at the edge of the night's lights. The mortal world is full of sorrow; spring and autumn cycle by. Do not ask about love in the mortal world; as long as it was once possessed, there is no need to hope for companionship in the next life.