If it was in ancient times, I might be a person who rushed for the exam, and I might meet a woman who lived in a single shirt. Her home is next to the post office. She leans against the door and smells a mouthful of plums. I will write this poem on the wall or on rice paper.
If in ancient times, I might have been a lonely person, and it was very late in the pavilion. I might be holding Liu's hand and saying goodbye to the river, hoping to wake up tomorrow. I should be under the waning moon and in another breeze.