Willow's memory
is the garment of spring, full of holes
where it hurts
patched by snow

The pair of swallows, settled at Cape long ago
did not seem to look back for a while
left only the mountains
stripped from ancient garment
fading in snowy countryside

Like an old Chinese brush painting
forgotten in the stone lane of river south
The story that no one remembers
You don’t tell, I won’t tell

柳叶的记忆
是春的青衫，千疮百孔
刺痛处
雪做了补丁
 
那对燕子，早去海角安家
好像很久都没回过头
只剩褪去青衣的远山
在雪国里更显苍茫
 
像那幅水墨旧作
失落在江南的小巷
没人记得的故事
你不说，我不说