Your dark clouds have just been tied up.
A carving comb is inserted obliquely on the head.
With a face as beautiful as flowers and jade
You warmly extend your white hand.
Tuck the apple into my arms.
Slightly flushed autumn fruit
Just like our relationship.
But I accidentally spit.
Gently landed on your temple.
The cup of happiness and love
Fill your sweetness and gentleness.
In that apple orchard
There is a natural road.
Ask me shyly.
Who stepped out first?