Rain soaked my clothes, but made my face weep.
Snow adorned the sky, a frost on my delicate fur
coat. Green mountains need not grow old, for snowflakes have turned them white
. Green waters sing of their long flow, but the long wind frowns.
The fragrance of flowers wafts by; why seek it in the distance?
Terrible imagination adds so much disappointment.
They say life is more than just the present hardships; who imagines poetry and distant
fields? Poetry and distant fields are more hardships than the hardships of reality.
I'm grateful for poetry and the distant Himalayas
, but it's all imagination.
The real distance
, before magnified and bolded passion and dreams, is pitifully uncertain.
I don't want to imagine your goodness, glistening tears.
I don't want to imagine your beauty, the wild geese returning south. Fallen
flowers imagine flowing water, but the flowing water is only indifferent.
I imagine you are the beauty of the wind, the elegance of the moon goddess.
Hardship is the wind's disorder, the moon goddess a thousand miles away.
You are more hardship than I imagined. More
hardship than I imagined.
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