When the evening sun wasted away to a crescent, hanging on the top branch of the willow, the noisy day slowed down its pace, roaming slowly in the moonlight.

Gazing through the distant desolation, stepping on a carpet of softness, in this quiet night, I pack my sighs, composing it into rhythm with my skirt gently dancing in the wind.

The night is hazy, the melody is pleasing to ear, it is who that wandering alone in the moonlight, lengthening the desolate shadows?
And, in the waving that flicking off the sadness, sprinkling the flying skirt with starlight?

Always could not bear to waken the bygones, but willing to follow the profound gaze of time, waiting for the sweet odour of the flower season after season, the worries between the brows, the tangly scenarios, together with the long sleeves gently dancing to the sad tune in the moonlight, dolefully pouring out the sorrow.

Those inerasable memories haunting me all the way along with the errant wind that shaking down the gentle but cold fragrance.

Looking back, the road I have travelled was long and winding, those watery and ordinary days were just wishful thinking on my part, and all the memories of this life but to treasure life.

The moon is shining upon the window, brimming a cup of wine with nostalgia in the moonlight, listening to the murmuring of the wind and the flowing of the melody.

The dusty worries along with the nocturne whisking away the sadness. Glancing back thousands of times with surge of affection, the gentle rhythms penetrate to all corners, vainly waving the long sleeves to cover up the vicissitudes of time, as ever I remain the plain dress without any make up, keep watching fondly on the shore, sprinkle the fragrance around.

Probably, I have never been disillusioned with this human world this life, those deep attachments in the middle of the stage of night gently dancing with the flying skirt and the long sleeves, waving to me in the distance.

While I shake off the dust and drink myself into lonely shadow in the moonlight, despite the tenderness fell and tears blurred, still I could not escape from the loneliness as well as this net.

Whose figure swaying gently under my pen on such moonlit night, triggering my sorrow?
It is who that wearing the wedding dress made by moonbeam?
And that dancing with deep affection into collapse?

At the moment, playing a tune on strings and performing a stunning dance, those memories that imprinted on my mind through the moonlight cast about for me, yet I could not erase from them, and get nowhere to escape, but to stand against the wind, let the thoughts wander along with the beautiful rhythm.

The moon is cold and the shape is thin. Scooping up a handful of autumn water, dancing to the moon, the light sorrow turns into continuous deep fragrance,  and the dancing silhouette slips into my dreams many a time.

The fallen flowers leave no trace but fragrance, in this bleak season, let the lonely silhouette dance trippingly, shaking off the dust together with the melancholy.

Tonight, it is who that dancing alone in the moonlight, with the wind passing by, the clothes gently and gracefully fly……