Author: Dai Wangshu
Holding an oil-paper umbrella alone
Wandering in the long, long
Lonely rain lane,
I hope to see
Like cloves.
A girl with a grudge.
She does.
Clove-like color,
Lilac-like fragrance,
Sad as cloves,
Mourning in the rain,
Sadness and hesitation;
She lingers in this lonely rain lane,
Hold an oil-paper umbrella
Like me,
Like me.
Walking silently,
Cold, sad, melancholy.
She approached quietly.
Get close and throw again.
Breathing eyes,
She floated by.
Like a dream,
As sad and confused as a dream.
Floating like a dream
A lilac field,
I passed this girl by;
She left quietly, left,
A crumbling fence,
Walk through this rainy path.
In the lamentation of the rain,
Remove her color,
Spread her fragrance,
Disappeared, even hers
Breathing eyes,
Lilac is melancholy.
Holding an oil-paper umbrella alone
Wandering in the long, long
Lonely rain lane,
I hope to float over.
Like cloves.
A girl with a grudge.
Out of context-Bian Zhilin
You stand on the bridge and watch the scenery.
The landscape observer is watching you upstairs.
The bright moon decorated your window,
You decorated other people's dreams.