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Now the time downs the end of a day,
And all myself is surrounded by the damp air,
with a bit chilly and like fog in someway ,
Silence is now a precious settlement,
But not eternal,
Like a wanderer get lost in a wild forest.
The night comes,darkness comes,
They'll swallow all this ,
Good or bad,Happy or unhappy,
People call this is the part of a day,
A day has its end,that's certain,
I've long known that.
The mournful sound also comes,
Not far away ,
just near to my ear,clings to my heart,
Like fresh mosses cover the old trees,
from the bottom to the top.
These sudden memory make me speechless ,
Hard to breath,can't sense,
All I can do is looking back on the vague happiness,
and waiting,waiting,
Both endlessly and despairingly,
"Love is short,but forgetting is long."
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