When the wind blows, I am fragile, petal by petal, falling off in pieces.
when the wind blows, I stay on the green branches, with bright green stars and little new green. Slightly shy, monochromatic toner.
when the wind blows, I float on the water, and the clear water is like a mirror, rippling in the microwave. The petals are fragrant and wandering.
The wind is blowing, and I am silent in the jungle, with swaying trees and sparkling light and shadow. Residual colors pile up, and the fragrance becomes silent.
...
Where will I be forgotten? Perhaps, I am leaving.
I think, maybe, I shouldn't be so quiet, I should be more vigorous.
maybe, next year. In spring, I will stand in the center of the stage, smiling sweetly; Summer, I will sing a song of life and be brave; Autumn, I will fall the first petal of red, singing; In winter, I will play solemn and stirring songs and moan ...
I'm leaving. I want to announce that I have been to the earth and the world. I want to thank the wind for its company. I want to tell Ye Er that you are the flowers of Yonghe.