Go away, my lovely girl,
　　to see the rosy sunglow.
　　Take on my love-song
　　and intonate in the wind.
　　Dew hangs on the hair,
　　like crystal melancholy,
　　the inicial melancholy in my life.
　　
　　When time and beauty pass away,
　　turning into one sigh in the sky,
　　old tears spark in your dolful eyes.
　　The song I shoul have sang for you.
　　in the age chasing for love
　　always reminds me of the past times