Each time I revisit the place we used to part or meet
Each time I grow nostalgic and sad.
The river is overgrown with reeds and weeds
A dozen earthworms are burrowing in the grey mud
The narrow path is swallowed by mushrooms and grass
The young and old bamboos are hanging their heads in distress
I do not try to sigh lest I cry
Lifting my face tears fall from the sky.