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A Letter to Yang Zhenning form Weng Fan 转(译文是后加的)|
Cold here, icy cold there. You belong to neither, leaves have withered. Your face is pale and blue, a tearful smile. Something in your eyes, whispers words of last good-bye. My heart sinks down, tears surge out.
Hot summer. Cheerful Cocktail. You took my hand. We fled into another world of band. You sat by my side, long hair tied behind, cool and killing. Smile floating on the lemonade, soft and smooth. How I was amazed. Your face looked like the cover of the magazine. My head spin. You led my hand, danced along the crazy theme.
Light vied with wine, elegance mixed with fragrance, laughing covered by greetings, the crowed was busy at handshaking. You stood there, eyes on me. I trembled at the sparkles, brighter than the light. A masterpiece from God, I felt dizzy. We were not near, yet we were together.
Days ended. You said, you would wait for me at the Alps side. We would ski against snowflakes dancing in the sky. I gave no answer but a good-bye to accompany your flight. Gone was the plane, I suddenly tasted my pain. I knew I had been silly and stupid, you were in my heart, I shouldn't have hidden in the dark. I tried to forget your disappointment. I made believe sometime someday, I would tell you, I feel all the same.
My thought struggled at confessing, somehow hesitation ended in flinching. I continued my role of a fool, clinched to my maiden pride, yet secretly indulged in your promise of the white land -- snow measuring down to us, in your arms I am lifted up. The chiming of Christmas bell!
The bell died in the patter of rain, from hell came the laughing of Satan at my brain. Tearful smile, swallowed by the darkness. How could trace your hair to wipe your tears? My hands reached out, catching nothing but a raindrop, on a leaf that had withered.
Snowflakes have melted into water, we are no more together.