The layer of autumn rain,
curtains the house's window.
Raindrops slowly slide down,
without any trace.
The inscriptions on the stone tablet,
may keep some secrets.
I've drunk,
in the deep feelings In your eyes.
There comes,
chilly loneliness in ancient alley,
and can be found,
in a Pipa tune written down just now.
The flowing robes is like the flying cloud,
fresh, gentle and elegant.
The bustle of hawkers is shouting constantly,
lively, prosperous and vibrant.
This is a dream,
back to the dynasty painted in this painting.
There is a feeling,
that I'm absolutely there at the moment.
I can touch,
the clothes they wear.
I can hear,
the sound in the noisy street.
I can even smell,
the fresh-mown grass after rain.
A few seconds in eyes,
an overwhelming sense of history in mind.
