Lotus Root(To the Tune of Yulouchun
Young, we threw away the pastoral years.
Now like a broken lotus root it is impossible to join the present and the past.
Then, we waited for each other, standing by the vermilion-railed bridge.
Today, I search for the traces, in vain, along the deserted path buried under yellow leaves.
Through the mist, all the peaks seem to be highlighting the blue.
Setting on the back of a wild goose, the sun turns into a dark red.
You left, like a cloud drifting away, across the river.
The memory of our passion is like a willow catkin stuck to the ground, after the rain.