雾

薄雾低垂，遮盖山高谷幽；

和我们道别阴天泪在流。

良辰通过记忆编织密咒，

给心新的希望值其挥手。

Mists

Low lie the mists; they hide each hill and dell;

The grey skies weep with us who bid farewell.

But happier days through memory weaves a spell,

And brings new hope to hearts who bid farewell.