The South of the misty rain

The South of the misty rain
In corridor of time, watch the South misty rain, fill the air dusk such as Chinese parasol tree, in the sight depths, become the very cold and gaudy colored shadow lightly.
The eave of season, is dripping the song of the pipa, the bit is all sounds that flowers are in bloom. Stand under the eave, look for the calmness of the heart, I stretch out hands with a smile, want to know those soft metres in verse, make the feeling on the palm, purple, blue and white too. Prop up oiled paper umbrella, attack representative of chaste characters, pass by ormosia exquisite feelings lightly all over the southern part of the country that grow, pairs of first, appear in the rain in smoke of the South thoroughly.
The cloves are in bloom thinly, the ones that extended during season are purple, there is artistic conception of the word, general Yin Yun of lovesickness. Keep watch Chinese parasol tree silent, standing on sand filter of time accompanying me savour lonely and sampling the happiness among misty rain together silent that stand still for a long while generally. The palm which I stretched out, meet the sky, there, will drop a sour and astringent fruit?
A thin one disconsolate to attack, have in mind, at the film of memory, have all in that place go out of cultivation, the memory unable omission excuse me, but the dreamland once in a while is the connecting short of memory chip broken. Perhaps, the collection of the bottom of heart is only choosing to forget to one's own redeeming and pity, could walk far, the ones that flew are high.
Rain cool, stroke it at the face. Pain that can't lack those, let me come up in sad cloud, in order to look for, hope, the and years gift for I, is only the moist vicissitudes? Lonely on the left bank, sad on the right bank, forget, can't forget, leave, unable to stay. Sing lightly and chant in a low voice, turn round, but can't go far in accordance with depending on in feeling. Involuntarily, ache thorough heart so. I recognize the direction struggling, it is unable to turn round that the dream still stays during that time disappearing. A lilac oiled paper umbrella, like a lonely lilac, move in the rain lane depths lonelily, flowers have cried, sew it red and full, it has cried too, the rain is its tears, like the heart spring not stopping, put it in the heart. My love is under the gentle weight by the precipice, the grand despair of flooding the bottom of heart of rumbling of rumour in the ear.
Whether fate is in the strange stream of people, the smile seeming to have met before in a moment, after nodding gently, leave one and wipe the figure beautiful, was not there news from then on? People, and why is people always one in dream, one outside the dream, each other, seem to separate a distance forever? Make me once again and brush past! I can sing a piece of the South ditty, urge the that moment shoulder to shoulder to stay, pick a white lotus, don't be by the temples.
Cigarette have feeling of dream indistinctly always in the rain, let me to be light to brush off the dust dust of time, nip and hesitate the figer tip secretly, just know pain is because of looking forward to. Expect? Expect to send and take leave of in face of meeting? That lilac of one step, hold the prosperity shown in my dream. Those purple ones are fragrance, nibble me dimly discernible and sad and light and blue all the time. Tell me, my soul leads the South where the dream entangles, I should open and hold in the arms, in face of the light easy sleeve swept of your delicate eyebrows, gather around one Huairou feeling misted misty rain, miss you face ink succeed adolescence when make up, draw back slowly, retreat in my blue flower, learn it by illuminating oneself bluely? Different life
Is my sorrow from baptism or stemming from the bottom of heart eternally of years and uncertain, unsatisfied? Pain at heart is so true, the feeling cheated, deceived leaves slowly, not becoming important any more, two drops of cool drops of water slip to the chin and try in the place best, drip and fall it in the hand shakeouted, just find, when smiles are too relevant to tears purpose live, always pour wantonly during the unmanned dark night!
Unless it is even if vast, reinventing by previous existence the South,in cigarette Pori, to break up light and already enough to bear firmly in mind one expression in one's eyes. My silence, is a scene of bright red   As time turns round, I know, are full of tears to drip in my palm. I see my sadness again, dance in the fragrance that can't be fathomed in time, rotate into an overnight clear tender tea leaves.
Buddha says: Put down, have.
Perhaps, love what I and me love, will in fact all bid farewell at the end of the corridor of time. I understood at last too, the misty rain in the South was originally the tears of my sky, in the dream till the end of the world, it is water in deep spring that mourn the death at all times.
Let me break figer tip by the teeth, this pulse lovesickness blackish red infusion, drip, leave, prepare millennium on being attentive, dye the South that a lilac withers and falls.