The leaves are slowly turning yellow.
Fingers fall off like snakes.
In the cold wind and sunshine
I can't find the direction of the season.
If I could be like a bird, too
Take a leisurely walk like that.
Then I don't have to sing.
This trembling world
All I have to do is stand at the top of the tree.
See clearly here, see clearly the distant place of Chu.
In this changing season.
Everyone wants a sober, a quiet.