Early winter weekend, yet it's warm like spring,
Far away, the cars're humming and running in a line like the string.
Over the river, thick mist intertwines the afternoon and evening,
Fine dust covers the earth by the waterside, it's difficult for inhaling.
(Dec.,9th,2023, Kinsley Lee)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem