On the street where autumn leaves are falling.
At the gate of the dying theater
I saw your poster on A3 paper.
Scattered in the alleys at dusk
Your purple crown with pearls.
Talking about the prosperity of the Millennium Empire.
You embroider gorgeous robes.
There are also tenderness and power.
But your little finger.
Even aware of the changes in the city.
Silent and sad eyes
As if to penetrate the emotional barrier
Perhaps, the wheel of history
Let China society prosper again.
However, immaterial emotions
When can I go back?
In our hearts