Many times I was young

Many times I was young

Under a plum tree bursting with flowers

I am young, the cold wind retains the birds of prey

Snow is coming, walking in the snow

I must be young to make the pace easy

Not to crush the shadows cast by the flowers

The advantage of being young: not making memories

There is so little to remember, and occasionally I turn back

Footprints are still fresh and hot

Memories are in front of my eyes, and the hand I held

I just let go, and it's still hot

I open the window and invite the moon into my room

The round moonlight is cast into my cup of tea

I began to plant my hometown

Without seeing the soil, my hometown also takes root

A piece of white paper is young, my hometown is alive

Many times I am young

I squeeze my dreams into walking beasts

Let the sun go into the bowels of the yellow earth and digest

A proverb or a mantra that hangs in the corner of my mouth

And I laugh out loud and scare age away