(Lingering Words) The wind is me, blowing with deep devotion, amidst the memories of the past, clouds and mist obscure the former days. Love exists, under the same sky, or as longing in different seasons, there are secrets that cannot be spoken. Autumn fairy tales, sorrow telling beauty, your face has become eternal in the story. A belated love is not truly late; what is late is a confession out of reach, the unstoppable rain of the heart.
(Yin Yue Poetry) Moonlight appears in new attire, lightly framing brows in a curve. Lightly entwined with misty waves, softly shattered and polished. Leaning in the cold height, proud toward the heavens, form like an eyebrow, deep like a bow. Joyful songs and laughter continue one after another, when the moon breaks through the Milky Way, people should not worry. Drunken sorrow, wave away the sorrow, a man of sentiment is truly free. Enough, enough, enough, by deep night the moon dreams of peach blossoms.
