A winter shrouds the spring of ours –
the ruthless snowstorm starts to whirl,
the snowy mantle lies around us
and Boreas will gloss it well.
I wanna warm days – when a brook
in gaiety will join a stream,
when trees under the sunny look
will lushly blossom out in leaf.
Like dripping water falling down
will ever live through drop by drop.
Like birds will land the nearest ground
and turn their eyes in skies to hop.
So I will only long for you,
my destination will come true.