Many people walk down,
over the sake of my head,
On the white wall ahead, I see
smiling faces with urban minds.

Next to the yellow crying face,
A "Thank You" speaks.
Silence remains, here he has
no chance to say any words.

Streets still overflow with hurried guys,
In the hallway, you could find
a dog in rain and plastic seats.
The wax-yellow light // at the end conceals in 80s,
Dragging on the ground,
visible yet invisible essays.

The child sits alone on hillsides,
weeping in the sunny day, where
watching distant valleys and trains
filled with cargo and delay.
You smoke in the carriage, // is black,
Without any claim, finally
Lost in thoughts with no purpose,
and no name.

The hillside grass // with smiles that will never delay.

Carelessly you and white smoke,
Frozen in black and peace, while
The overturned glass has lost // in the sun's behave.
Our hands conformed to nets, // until the moonlight
comes as our best friend, // and says.

Hello, Yes, Goodbye.
OK. Again.

When all that remains is a photo,
Then nothing truly remains at all.