used to be in the same classroom, with the same desk,

Pure blue sky, singing the song of childhood,

The call of the cicadas is quietly accompanied,

Before we know it, we are all mature.

The childish face, the grassy breeze.

Watch the sunset fall on the playground,

The wall on which the wall of love has been mottled,

When the flowers bloom again, each has a future to go,

Let me cherish my voice,

The dreams I once had are no longer ignorant,

Time slipped away little by little,

We can never go back to that little time,

Write love letters in class and skip class to play football together,

And those who have held hands with me,

Now they are all busy with work and life.

No one waited for anyone anymore,

Will they meet by chance on a certain street someday?