凉凉 – Chill

fwoopersongs:

As night falls and temperatures lower, flowers that fell to the ground are frosted over;
you watch from afar, till the last rays of the setting sun have dimmed.
Even without deliberate thought, we cannot forget.

Those flourishing peach blossoms now lie frozen; how could you bear to leave your life behind?
This heart drifts in the vast ocean, seeming not to ache, to yearn, to struggle –
all an illusion.

In the chill of the night, my longing for you overflows like a river,
and transforms, sheltering me as soil nurtures life in spring.
These fleeting years that brush past, fill the sleeve of my beloved,
like petals of fragrant blossoms carried by running water.

Heaven’s Will is coldly delivered; light shimmers upon that beautiful figure.
Down in the mortal realm, I grieve and sorrow;
those calamities were simple to endure, the tragedy of love impossible to overcome.
Can a heart, broken long ago, hold the hatred belonging to a previous life?

Hatred belonging to a previous life…

*
Once, the frost shone on my hair, once, a lamp was lit for you.
The years pass long and slow, how can I waste all that time away?
I leave to wander, I leave in exchange for growth.

Those flourishing peach blossoms now lie frozen; this life is beginning to burn.
With one flower brought into the heart, our figures were paired for eternity,
by the water’s side.

*
In the chill of the night, my longing for you overflows like a river,
and transforms, sheltering me as soil nurtures life in spring.
These fleeting years that brush past, fill the sleeve of my beloved,
like petals of fragrant blossoms carried by running water.

Heaven’s Will is coldly delivered; light shimmers upon that beautiful figure.
Down in the mortal realm, I grieve and sorrow;
those calamities were simple to endure,

the tragedy of love

impossible to overcome.
Can a heart, broken long ago, hold the hatred belonging to a previous life?

*
Three lives lived in despair pass like a dream;
years flitted by, tears dried in the wind.
If all we can have are memories, but never recognition,
then let this affection scatter like ashes to the ends of the earth.

This cold is felt even ten miles away, when will the verdant spring return?
Beneath the tree, a single lamp remains lit in the wind.
Flowers pine for love that the flowing water cannot return;
never let resentment born from gratitude or hate that springs from love, chill that flower’s pure heart.

My wish is for a life free of suffering.

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