Perhaps, in life I am only a passerby.
A traveler in black clothes, carrying a white pack,
hurrying along the road.
From the wild paths where grass grows and orioles fly to the wasteland of icy peaks and snowy shadows.
Along the way there is so much brilliant beauty,
but has there ever been even one flower, however small, that bloomed for me?
So it goes, from season to season, from one mood to another...
I am only a passerby, that is all.
Nothing unforgettable, nothing everlasting.
As time, like water, gradually drowns me, there is nothing—
that on a moonlit, clear-breezed night I can remember alone.
The days scurry past between my fingers like mice; only the wind is my constant friend.
She scatters dust and smoke across my gaunt face,
amid the bustling crowds, facing the growing estrangement in old friends' hearts.
I truly am only a passerby.
Blue clouds in the sky, pure water in the bottle. Where am I to go before I may stay?
Before I may have a patch of woods of my own,
where I too may stand as a free and easy tree, shake out my branches and leaves,
and let the sun pass through its mottled light and shadow.
Swallows fly in pairs. Moonlight once brushed over my body.
Perhaps I truly can only be a passerby,
hoping that at the end of the years,
I may stand as a scene that someone still remembers....
A traveler in black clothes, carrying a white pack,
hurrying along the road.
From the wild paths where grass grows and orioles fly to the wasteland of icy peaks and snowy shadows.
Along the way there is so much brilliant beauty,
but has there ever been even one flower, however small, that bloomed for me?
So it goes, from season to season, from one mood to another...
I am only a passerby, that is all.
Nothing unforgettable, nothing everlasting.
As time, like water, gradually drowns me, there is nothing—
that on a moonlit, clear-breezed night I can remember alone.
The days scurry past between my fingers like mice; only the wind is my constant friend.
She scatters dust and smoke across my gaunt face,
amid the bustling crowds, facing the growing estrangement in old friends' hearts.
I truly am only a passerby.
Blue clouds in the sky, pure water in the bottle. Where am I to go before I may stay?
Before I may have a patch of woods of my own,
where I too may stand as a free and easy tree, shake out my branches and leaves,
and let the sun pass through its mottled light and shadow.
Swallows fly in pairs. Moonlight once brushed over my body.
Perhaps I truly can only be a passerby,
hoping that at the end of the years,
I may stand as a scene that someone still remembers....
弄花香满衣，掬水月在手。
明月鹭鸟飞， 芦花白马走。
我自一过后，野渡现横舟。
青云碧空在，净瓶水不流。
http://dos.e-stone.cn/guestbook/index.asp
＝＝＝＝＝＝中國DOS聯盟＝＝＝＝＝
我的新网页http://rsds.7i24.com欢迎光顾
明月鹭鸟飞， 芦花白马走。
我自一过后，野渡现横舟。
青云碧空在，净瓶水不流。
http://dos.e-stone.cn/guestbook/index.asp
＝＝＝＝＝＝中國DOS聯盟＝＝＝＝＝
我的新网页http://rsds.7i24.com欢迎光顾
