It is such a easy that I am, you, the setting sun beautiful! Is expectant to each dusk, feel sad in each rainy day.
Mother says, I was very young very in the childhood, went to the sun to drop the cliff each time, night came, I begin the cry no end, everyone does not understand why, so everyone is unexpected the method lets me stop. In my time seeing the setting sun disappear in my sight little by little conscientiously, I understood at last, I feared night very much, wanted to let mother draw back the sun from behind the mountain.
In the endless variety of the world, I could not remember the color of the sky suddenly, forgot one's own dream, think this world is only the world of money, right and the shameless one. When and wither in the yearning to them, I understood at last God just caused me a snail, unable to climb very far, more unably to climb, the constellation is my destiny in the shell. Let me have a detached attitude towards life lonelily and lonelily, Buddha is icy that the heart walks back and forth, the only ones that do not change are to take a walk in dusk.
Mountain peak in Western Paradise rise red flame, burst forth a cluster of dazzling mountain flowers, its brilliant rays let the deep cloud and mist become as transparent and beautiful as jade wing of the gold cicada, fly to the black night, no longer terrible suddenly at night, it was only a scar while remembering, the ice sheet in my heart begins to melt little by little. As the jade wing skims over my cheek, hope to light in my mind again. Leading the peasants who the farm cattle goes home on the low bank, the setback of years is carved on his face, open flower by the graceful and restrained field of his smile under the setting sun; The bird going back to the nest is calling relatives gently. The world had been beautiful all the time originally, it was only my mood that changed.
Annoying rainy day, my numb going out of the gate of the office, but shaken regret by a skirt on one's body of model by the door of clothes shop opposite, that are blinding and red and yellow, I walk back and forth Buddha sees the sun falls drunkly in the remotest places. In fact can store the flame in order to be lighted in snail's ordinary shell easily too. I love the setting sun, even if the heart goes out of cultivation, there is string sound of a kind of warm tones that trickles in the sounds of nature silently at my side, lead me to go ahead, does not hesitate
