I’m full, full of silence,
A peaceful road, a corner.
The chirping of angels with folded wings.
Pouting, pushing your head out
Greeted by the swaying little leaves
For some reason, I let out a long sigh.
Not long ago, I had the same form.
I walked on the ground every night…
Across the pollution of darkness
Now, in the warmth of the sunshine
Returning like dew on the petals
A little soul in the forest.
It’s not a poet’s song; it’s not a song.
It is the cry of a solemn cemetery,
In the solitary shadow of life
Chewing, the pain of love and
Reminiscing about lost pleasure
Pointing fingers at being alone.
However, in the freshness of whispering
Occasionally, like their sighs
Even a conversation that was won
Music that is already full of excellence
It has become a poem without a hint of endlessness.
He was willing to comfort me.