Years later, you questioned love in your poem.
But I still remember the flowering trees falling like snow.
Beauty is waiting on the edge of love.
It is the mottled light and shadow when it falls quietly.
It was a temporary distraction, but it was hidden deeper.
It turns out that life is only wasted.
For example, the crazy cicadas in midsummer, such as flowers blooming and falling.
For example, the moon in the desolate wilderness
For example, the fragrance of the whole pine forest under the transpiration of the sun.
Just like you are in the forest.
How to come to me with a smile and a white dress?
That summer was still slightly fluttering in the wind.
As if completely ignoring the vicissitudes of life at the moment.