The willow catkins are like flying snow.
There are grievances and praises in the poetic words.
I met her
in this past season
. In the process of knowing each other,
I silently bumped into the sparks of deep feelings
I sowed the seeds of love in each other's hearts
At that time
I always hum "I really love you"
The road of life
is like the river behind the village
winding eastward
. The tranquil heart lake
disturbed unevenness
the tortuous ileum of love
such as scar and hate
pierced my memory again and again
making it hard for me to forget
those tangled thoughts
wherever I go
whether it was then, now
or in the future
.