Standing at the intersection of autumn, depending on the embrace of autumn,

Looking at a fallen leaf, the autumn color is rendered.

Look at the season of falling flowers and sorrows.

Cold autumn, cold morning, cold frost, cold leaves;

Warmth, warmth, warmth, warm years.

Because knowing, everything is fine;

Because of existence, warmth follows.

Flowers will not bloom in the coming year because of your displacement;

People will turn into strangers because of your missed.

If the water is poor, the leaves are empty.

The old age can still be a variety of styles.

Looking at the years, the end of the world,

You can still find the traces of the past.

Some stories, except memories, will not stay;

Some helpless, no one will say anything except silence;

Some things, except myself, will not be understood.

Come, go, gather, and disperse.

Red dust, acacia is not exhausted, the wind rises, the flowers are silent.

Autumn cuddling, a word is not exhausted,

It’s been a thing of the past, and it’s hard to remember.