Goodbye to All That, in Summer Nights
Finally, passers-by no longer kiss goodbye to anyone or anything except the raindrops that touch their shoulders by chance.
In raining days, the dark clouds, it seemed, were pouring
tears, instead of rains, kissing goodbye to the bright summer lights. It is true
that summer days in Hubei are rapidly vanishing, leaving of trace of whereabouts.
So profoundly unsettled were the poplar trees by the dying out of summer heats
that their undying heart-shaped leaves tried hard to grow thickener than ever
in order to memorize the passionate warmth they had absorbed from the sun during
those heat summer days. Beneath the darkish grey sky were the beautiful and starlike
heart-shaped poplar leaves so intensely greenish that it was as if they are the
representation of summer’s unique strength. The stronger the sunlight the
sweeter the leaves that eventually grow like a heart.
Pedestrians in the wettish streets rarely greet each other perhaps in part because the darkened, discolored umbrellas they held saddened the moony clouds. Finally, passers-by no longer say goodbye to anything except the raindrops that touch their shoulders by chance. There is a sense of profound love for anything soft, gentle, and unaccusatory. So vulnerable was this late summer night that not even a sound was made in the lengthened period of raining this evening. Yet, the autumn, as people finally recognize, has arrived. And there from afar, the flattish and broadening fields full of greeneries embraced the rain as ever. It’s time to find somebody to be around with.
When the summer leaves,There is often nothing left but lonely soulsWho have since encountered uncomprehensible strange things.Actually, when the autumn comes,People are easily crazy andThey gradually recognize that not everyone is truly compitable with anohter one.When everything is done and fruits harvested,There is no need to find somebody else to be around withExcept someone with a pure heartSo transparent and sincere thatOn no day would he surrender his dreamsTo any decadent entities.He is as holy, pure, loving, and free asA newborn, except that he never cries for he knows far too wellThat no one truly deserves his tears except God.