Between water and fire there won't be a melting point Between drought and waterlogging the homeland's always there Let me bury the withered petals of flowers And transplant the bloomed and un-bloomed into the heart
Hand in hand, walking out the window, into the deep autumn Along the age-old road, filling the gorges with quicksand Using the profusive fallen leaves, knitting a bridal dress And wearing two maple leaves in the elegant, silky hair
After losing gold bars and the vast territory In the lowest vale of the year we embrace each other No longer wait for the virgin lake's calm And no longer seek the baffling and mystifying reflections
The autumn breezes making sound, playing for the wedding The falling leaves dancing and flying in the breezes The little birds singing in the deep abyss And the white clouds throwing down cotton happy candies
The extreme madness feels plain and moderate The spirit and flesh mingling and rising into wonderfulness The autumn, autumn, autumn bride Softly, lingeringly lying in your arms