Between water and fire there won't be a melting point
Between drought and waterlogging the homeland's always there
Let me bury the withered petals of flowers
And transplant the bloomed and unbloomed into the heart
Hand in hand, walking out the window, into the deep autumn
Along the age-old road, filling the gorges with quicksand
Using the profusive fallen leaves, knitting a bridal dress
And wearing two maple leaves in the elegant, silky hair
After losing gold bars and the vast territory
In the lowest vale of the year we embrace each other
No longer wait for the virgin lake's calm
And no longer seek the baffling and mystifying reflections
The autumn breezes making sound, playing for the wedding
The falling leaves dancing and flying in the breezes
The little birds singing in the deep abyss
And the white clouds throwing down cotton happy candies
The extreme madness feels plain and moderate
The spirit and flesh mingling and rising into wonderfulness
The autumn, autumn, autumn bride
Softly, lingeringly lying in your arms
By Rose Lu
Translation By Mengwen
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem