Childlike sorrow

Late autumn November,

The autumn when the golden leaves are not there,

It seems to be like this every year,

Blood-stained maple leaves,

Sorrow that cannot be dispersed,

Confused and unaware of the wind,

Fire and ice intersect,

The eternal changes of time and space,

Years and years are now in the morning,

The husband of the deceased,

The sigh of the sage on the nameless riverside,

Brought up,

A touch of childlike sorrow.

The aftermath of a chance encounter,

reverberation around the beam,

Beautiful fields,

Bailongma,

And one more,

Penghu Bay.

Knowing in memory,

Always hiss,

Perched trees,

be in full leaf

And a cloud,

Very white,

Including that piece of heaven,

It's as clear as a wash.

What is childlike sorrow,

has long been blurred,

I can't remember,

What is heartache,

has long been insensitive,

Get used to it,

What is loneliness,

Long gone,

Enjoyed it so much,

Because with every breath,

have long been integrated,

Bones.

Invisible wings,

The music teacher who was laid flowers,

The heckling of children,

I don't know if it's or not

Know how to be happy.

pond edge,

On the big banyan tree,

chalkboard surface,

Teacher's Chalk,

It's all songs in memory,

Non-stop,

Play.

And those years,

Ignorant and overwhelmed heartbeat,

A promise under the stars,

The girl who chased together,

That represents,

Childhood is not there,

A carefree mind,

It seems that there is a trouble,

A disease called youth,

Incorrigible.

afterward

What is childlike sorrow,

That's remorse,

When I learn to love,

You, however,

It has long disappeared into the sea of people.

In the vast world,

The wind is blowing,

The leaves of the big trees rustle,

The lines that look like the palms of the hands,

Have you ever understood,

What does that mean?

Not my good brother,

but

My tears,

Traces left behind.

The sun is shining,

What is childlike sorrow,

It's the shadow obscured by the apricot leaves,

It's the palpitations of the little dirt slope,

It's still that day,

Neither,

Nothing,

It's actually really simple,

That is,

Your clear eyes,

Thy black hair,

Your laughter,

Smile slightly,

It's alluring.

Waiting for the coming year's grass silk,

If you are well,

It's a sunny day.

That's it,

Enough to overcome my sorrows,

Childlike sorrow.

No

It's sorrow.

4 November 2016