Részletek
Letöltés Docx
Tovább olvasom
The last moments of a love story feel like sad ballads. Although in life separations are inevitable, in the heart, there is still lingering passion. "Singing this lullaby for you one last time With the coolness of a day about to end With moments of pending separation Then ne’er another occasion, love Five rosy fingers on prayer beads With tear-soaked lips and a speechless heart Doleful rain on burdened shoulders Youthful hair and a fresh buttoned shirt Sweet smiles, an age of innocence Embroidered threads have faded, O love May the wind slumber in peace Just consider it a dismal dream, that’s all! High clouds and clear eyes Feverish forehead, all memories forsaken." Born, exist, then disappear, humans are like travelers, forever coming and leaving the inn of life in the endless cycle of transmigration. Like a raindrop in the vast firmament, like the reflections of the moon on the river, everything is fleeting when one is still ignorant of their origin. Fortunate are those who are blessed by an enlightened saint to know their true self and attain eternal life. "As you sail on the ferry, the moon still slumbers The river’s an inn, and the moon a carefree traveler As you sail on the ferry, the moon’s still young The river knows not that one day the moon will age. As you sail on the ferry, the moon is now old The moon is indebted forever, yet the river cannot remember As you sail on the ferry, listening to the river’s story 'O Moon, how uncaring you are! Wherever you go, please return soon.' As you sail on the ferry, life’s a merry festival I shall be an inn, awaiting your visit Passing by this place, why are you in such haste? I shall be a rolling pebble following your graceful steps. Amusing myself in life, not knowing where our origin is The afternoon tree’s long shadow recedes, and so does mine Amusing myself in life, not knowing where our origin is Condensing myself into a raindrop that evaporates under the firmament." When the heart resonates to the rhythm and melody of romance, all of creation also fluctuates according to the soul of the one in love. The four seasons, day and night no longer function according to the timeline of the universe, but become a reflection of the feelings within one's heart. We can only see blossoming flowers and nature's beauty under a luminous sky colored with the hues of bliss. "When Spring commences I set my affection on butterfly wings Soaring toward a world, infinite Where there is someone, beautiful as a dream!... When Spring commences First love as fresh as a new page Poetic verses unbridled Flying over remote country hills My heart becomes a festival... After Summer comes Autumn Where has the time gone? All the world in abandon!. . . Winter arrives gently Life is always Spring Birds sing songs of courtship The wind croons a soulful imperial dance... Dawn, the color of amour Twilight, the color of love Summer, the season of amour! Autumn, the season of love!... When Spring commences We search for one another in each breath A rose bud just blossomed In love's fragrant garden…"
