The original poem in a hurry

When all the dust goes with the wind, the sun will shine. That year, we hurried through the bushes in the street. Are they covered with yellow leaves? Is it to cover up the marks we have passed or the scenery along the way? Are they secretly changing flowers? Is it to change our mood or to change the long road? In that hurried year, we hurried through the stop sign of the path. Has it rusted? Have you had to change it several times? Is it to forget the ending we passed or a hurried year? If time can be trusted, please let me cover it with a quilt. If the afterlife is the same, please let me wait. What I can't believe is the past or the memories I hurried for a year.