The Red Building

Sharing the same desk and scrolls, we exchanged glances.

The fallen blossoms retained a gentle grace, perhaps a stirring of the heart.

I snapped off a peach branch, choosing not to look upon the profusion of flowers filling my eyes.

This song ends, and the year returns once more; through the furrowed brows of time, one should view it with peace.

Watching the withered petals fly everywhere, the year comes around again; leaning against the railing to gaze out, I am lost in indecision.

Another year of spring turns warm; I lift my eyes, filled with longing, as the years shine clearly—how much more so than yesterday.

Lingering on my fingertips is your scent; my heart breaks, unable to be rekindled.

I only wish to have you alone, as the past cycles through reincarnation.

To share a simple life of wood and stone, for the zither and lute to play in harmony, and to share the food of the bells and cauldrons—this is my only wish, to sleep together through the long, eternal night!