In the summer

When I opened the window, a ray of sunlight slipped silently into my air-conditioned room, circled around the room, and then quietly floated away again.

The days of late summer and early autumn are difficult. Looking at the distant wind, looking up carefully, the sun is still shining.

In order to remember not once their own in the old late summer and early autumn embrace what kind of thoughts, because the memory is broken stained glass, even if it is re-pieced together, the beautiful pattern is also scratched on the deep scar, back to the past. And the long and thin deep traces, witness the time, is how cruel passage, and then at a certain moment, gently smile, take away the afterglow of life. And into the next long, long cycle.

The sun outside the window is shining lazily, letting the soft wind tear apart the cloud of silk cotton. And it, as proud as the emperor, looked down on everything on the earth.

The shrill cry of a bird shattered a cat's dream. He rolled over very unhappily, mumbled, and closed his tired eyes again.

Grey, dilapidated houses gleamed in a blur, scattered in a jumble of fragments of time.

I picked it up and pieced it together piece by piece.

In the haze, there seemed to be a touch of green, a few red, and large patches of grey.

As if a song forgot the words, can only hum notes slowly recall.

Those who enter and exit my life, also with time to wash away the color, become blurred. One day, will also be erased from my memory, called an eternal past.

How many years later, it is a late summer and early autumn, I do not know how I will be in the mood to face this quiet sunshine.

The green breath on the branches will soon be stripped of its once glorious color by a gust of wind.

The dark gray trunk of the tree swayed in amazement, counting over and over the deep wrinkles on its body. As if experienced vicissitudes of life on the trunk, and left how many memories and footprints? Where do those who leave their memories and footprints go?

A song in my ear, a strange voice telling a strange belief. So gently, trying to tell me.

It was so quiet that I could not hear the faint singing.

When I raised my head, I found that imperceptibly, summer flowers have died. And that just yellow autumn leaves, but still recall those worth nostalgia in the past.

Trance between the familiar past gush out, strong so that people dizzy.

Tears also fell imperceptibly, gently, gently, as if it was a feather, silently falling in a calm lake.

Was it not said that we should grow together as summer flowers?

But now, the summer flower has passed away, in the time axis shuttling soul, but still stubborn, refusing the lonely invasion. Holding fast to the uncutting thread, wrapping himself...

Do you hear the wind of that year?

Once I made a childish wish.

Or do you banish your tiny voice to the depths of the sea, and let time cover its tracks?

The quiet bird suddenly spread its wings and took flight. The rustling of feathers made a crackling sound.

The awakened cat also gave up sleep. Stretching to get ready for the next starting point.

The rustle of leaves speaks of autumn.

I reached out and was surprised to find --

The wind...

The music in my ear became clear and bright, and the lyrics of the repeated singing were finally remembered.

Yes, that strange language, I hear...

Step き だ せ wilderness へ (took his footsteps to the wild!)

Before tomorrow before が る そ の に () before the arrival of tomorrow

Tracing き だ せ future を (described the future diligently!)

Jun が into む そ の way に () on the way you move forward

Footprint is no matter before the name of itters itters (do not have to leave a footprint, also do not have to leave a name)

...

The wind...

It's really windy...

When the summer is over...

Autumn is coming...