With each autumn leaf
I exchange the language of the soul
The wind strikes a bell
And writes
The song of the Season
I walk in autumn
Looking at the ancient woods and sky quietly
Branches are swaying and
The winds recall the story of the past, while
The early sun in the South of the Yangtze River
Has been stranded in the lotus pond
Autumn winds wrinkle my thoughts
Hideaways are knitted by the fallen leaves
When you are tired, you can travel through past time
And relax in your chair