Go With Storm, You Are the Dust of the Earth
You are a tourist on this boat,
Your hand is the sail,
Your heart is the fierce storm coming.
The wind, worried that the sails will break?
Rain, worried that the boat will turn over?
The storm, will care about the traveler on boat?
Storm, where are you?
I don't want the silence encroaching my time any more,
I want the baptism of wind and rain.
Walk in the vigour of springtime,
Heart is heavy;
Linger golden autumn lakeside,
The heart is little bitter.
Over the sea rising a sail,
In the sky, flying an eagle;
In the cold winter,
a snow lotus is blooming;
In the night, a bright lamp is lit.
Go with storm,
You are the dust of the earth.
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