Holding the lively sweetness, looking at the sky, watching the Sophora japonica turn white and yellow, waiting for the birds to stop, so serene and quiet, it simply guards my ancestors. Perhaps the moss in the gap is your green and moist heart, or the squeaky pulley on the well platform is your eternal story.
I can't help thinking of you. Memories about you always linger in the depths of feelings, fresh and quiet. The burden of carrying water shook off the yellow years of wheat, and the well surrounded by wind and rain was full of cool and soothing moonlight.
My brothers who live in your sight, the love songs shouted are always clear and full of sweet charm; Sisters who walk in your arms all the year round, their graceful steps are always flowing, soft and moving.
Turn your back on the earth, stay away from the noise, and make sure your eyes are clear and caring. You feed my mother with a smile, and the days of mobility are endless because of you.
I drove a long way under the sunshine and sandstorm and the anxiety of the city. I suspect that I have lost the whole wet childhood flowing from your heart, and I suspect that I have lost the deep thoughts in your eyes. Oh, those days were so clear and sweet.
Perhaps, I lost the well in my memory. Back home, those wells without pulleys will become deep, just like our deeper and deeper desire!