Starry starry night,
it is a sweltering summer night.
I lie on the grassland,
counting the number of stars.
...
Anonymous,
the one who must not be named.
Nameless,
the one who anonymous loves.
...
It is a normal Saturday,
anonymous is sitting on the same seat,
glimpsing the same scene,
feeling the same milieu,
...
The white horse kept running,
without looking back.
The past was disgraceful and lackluster,
no one wanted to recall it.
...
It is midsummer,
and the nights are hot.
Black horse is strolling along the lake,
trying to delve into another world.
...
It is November,
clamness rules.
After an arduous chase,
the black horse eventually stops.
...
Look outside the obscured window,
there is a fig tree.
There is no roundness,
no fruit in it.
...
In the boundless sky,
two different types of air mass,
waving their dreams in the sky.
...
I sing a song
and let it fly.
I let it flow into your glittering eyes.
...