I walked through Jiangnan.
A face waiting in the season
Such as the opening and falling of lotus flowers
If the east wind does not come, catkins will not fly in March.
Your heart
This is a lonely city.
Like a bluestone street facing the night.
Footsteps don't ring, and the curtain doesn't open in March.
Your heart
That is a small closed window.
My hooves were a beautiful mistake.
I'm not returning home, I'm a passer-by.