Swallows have gone, and there is a time to come again; Willow withered, there is a time to green again; The peach blossom withered, but it blossomed again. But, smart, tell me, why are our days gone forever? Someone stole them. Who's that? Where is it hidden? They escaped by themselves.-Where are they now? I don't know how many days they gave me, but my hands are getting empty. Counting silently, more than 8,000 days have slipped away from me quietly, like a drop of water on the tip of a needle in the sea. My days are dripping in the stream of time, without sound or shadow. I can't help bursting into tears.

Go wherever you go, and come wherever you come; What's the hurry between going and coming? When I get up in the morning, two or three sunsets shoot into the hut. The sun has feet. It moved quietly and gently, and I followed it blankly. So, when washing your hands, the days pass from the basin; When eating, the days pass from the rice bowl; When I was silent, I passed by my eyes. I realized that it had left in a hurry, and when I reached out to cover it, it passed by the covered hand again. When it was dark, I was lying in bed, and it quickly passed by me and flew away from my feet. When I open my eyes and see the sun again, it will be a new day. I buried my face in a sigh, but the shadow of a new day began to flash in the sigh again.

What can I do in the days when I fly away, in the world of thousands of families? Only wandering, only running; In the rush of more than 8,000 days, what is left except wandering? The past days are like light smoke, blown away by the breeze; Such as fog, melted by Chu Yang; What traces did I leave? Did I leave traces like hairspring? I came into this world naked, and I will go back naked in the blink of an eye? But it can't be flat. Why did you come for nothing this time?

You are very clever. Tell me, why are our days gone forever?