The imprisoned lake is a falling blue sky,
shimmering among the mountains,
when we hold up our hands, the thirst keeps slowly flowing down from our fingers.
The rolling lights still sparkle, the sunlight repels each other
From the water vapor to the bottom of the puddle, there is an "I".
So my body becomes a broken crock, I exist, a moment becomes infinite
If the skiff is lighter than air, then there is no need to create it,
If nostalgia becomes an absent-minded who’s barefoot,
The waves ripple while the shattered shadow is still there.
Without a goal, the persistence and the repetition of our life are dissolved sands
My boat sails through breath without a rudder──