In the wind
The crowd is like a paper-cut Silhouett， leaves are airplanes
Gray is despair
And I am wearing a warm scarf
Ink red, as long as my time away in recluse
Wind is messing with my scarf.
Ink red in gray is like
A hard struggle in the mire
So shockingly clinging to my breath
Like my suffocation in the bookstores
In their universe mass of bottomless gray
I can't pick out a unique individual
In the crowd
She is a green bicycle lusterlessly shining
Her slender waist band wavy
Tracing out a winding snake swimming in the crowdy street
and her red scarf dancing free in the breeze
And I won’t take my eyes off it again
I want to chase endlessly
I want to dance to her winding band
I want to hold her scarf incense
I want to bathe in her green
Green thrills the gray books
Drowning deeper and deeper
The mire has locked up my breath
To break free is only my ink red scarf
--- English editing: D.W
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