Clothes make me look good.
Whose skirt,
Cover my scarred shoulders.
Whose bright moon,
According to my black pine mountain.
Whose loneliness,
What hurts is the night wind whistling in the mountains.
Whose is that lonely child? His head got stuck in the dogwood.
Night after night, singing heartily.
So huge ...
So desolate ...
Who sings the black elegy,
He guarded the white village,
My mercury,
My fireworks,
My black hillside is covered with irises.
Busy wind, lonely people.
A hearty soul.
You are me,
A fragile wound that refuses to heal. ...
-Jing M.Guo's The Edge of Love and Pain and A Child Looking Up at the Sky 4.