Chapter 2 two

The slanting shadow stretches out its arms to drag the streamer's feet The cuckoos are tired of singing. I'm walking on the side of the road and I don't know why. A low-hanging tree shades a hut by the water. Someone is busy at work, and her bracelet plays music from a corner. I'm standing in front of the hut, I don't know why. The winding path leads through a field of mustard greens and layers of mango trees. It passes the village temple and the market at the ferry. I stopped before this hut, I don't know why. Several years ago, on a windy day in March, spring whispered lazily, and mango blossoms fell to the ground.

The waves jumped up and passed the copper bottle standing on the edge of the ferry. I think it's a windy day in March, and I don't know why. The darker the shadows, the herds go to the stalls. The sun was pale on the desolate pasture, and the villagers were waiting for the ferry by the river. I walked back slowly, I don't know why. The night is the night in the middle of May, and the breeze is the breeze of the southern country. I'm lost, I'm wandering, I seek what I can't get, I get what I don't seek. The image of my own wish comes out of me and dances. The shimmering figure flew by.

I want to hold on to it, but it eludes me and flies away I seek what I cannot have, and I obtain what I do not seek. It is a moonlit night in March; the air is scented with impatiens; my flute is thrown on the ground, and your strings are not woven. The love between you and me is as simple as a song. Your orange veil enchants my eyes. The jasmine wreath you wove me made my heart tremble like a compliment. This is a game of giving and staying, hiding and showing; some smiles, some shyness, and some sweet and useless resistance. The love between you and me is as pure as a song. There is no mystery beyond the present; no insistence on what cannot be done; no shadow behind the charm; no exploration of the dark depths.

The love between you and me is as simple as a song. We have not stepped out of all languages ​​into eternal silence; we have not raised our hands to nothing for anything but hope. We give, we take, and that's enough. We have not crushed joy into dust to extract the wine of pain. The love between you and me is as simple as a song.