Time

The age surges and rushes on, and I am blurred of face.

I open Xiami Music, and by chance it is Lo Ta-yu — “The Story of Time.”

The flowers of spring blooming, the wind of autumn

And the setting sun of winter

Melancholy, the youthful me

Once so innocently thought this way

The windmill, in the song of the four seasons turning,

Revolves day after day

In verses of wind, flower, snow and moon

I grow year after year

The flowing water carries away the story of time

And changes a person

Right there in that sentimental, first

Waiting youth

……

Zhu Zhisan, the Nine Eccentrics of Yangzhou, the Twenty-Seven Hairpins of Jinling — rings of smoke rising, mist spreading. Still I do not know how to place myself, or how to treat well those beside me.