Why?
Sitting by my desk, I asked.
Intoxicated by unwillingness,
there was bitter down my cold body.
On the desk, there was a petal,
there was no telling where it came from.

Drunk, I rise and approach the moon in the lake,
There was a peony.
Amidst a solitary night, bound by sorrow,
I Inquire the peony.
For whom do you shed your petals and leaves,
for whom do you bloom?

Taking a stroll through the mountains with my friend,
We saw a peony, its petal glitter in specks of snow,
Buds that were the blossoms of springs.
That day we questioned the flowers,
But the flowers do not speak.
Alas, our questions remained unanswered.

Wine, a drink to some, a comfort for others.
The mind is drunk, yet the heart is not.
It’s a source of medicine to forget one's sorrows for a long while,
Yet to many, a poison to numb the heart.
Recalling the melodic song looming over nightfall breeze,
My sorrow slowly eased.

Opening the window, I watch the bird depart
With a heart.
They say distant heart tend towards like places,
Yet my heart drifts with no traces of paces.
When the heart drifts,
So does the spirits.
Travelling a thousand miles,
I hope it finds its replies.

We bid each other farewell beside the hill,
Alas, the sun has flees.
Feeling the withered petal from plum blossom trees,
In spring, the grass will return,
But will my friend return?

When the heart move,
the world does too.
Closing my eyes,
Is the world still here?
Closing the world eyes,
Am I still there?
Open eyes is truth,
Closed eyes is false.
Is my eyes truth,
Or is the world's eyes false?