Say, to the surreal November sky, I miss you,

The ginkgo knows, the cherry knows,

Every fallen leaf knows.

I miss you, under the surreal silver sky,

As time goes.


Now tell the ever-changing seasons, I miss you,

The rabbit knows, the raccoon knows,

Each a shy passenger knows.

I miss you, in this cruel changing season,

As the wind blows.


And my yearn extends like an endless desert,

The moon knows,

The sand knows,

The dying spring knows,

The star-lit desert, quiet and wild,

Covered with snow.


So whisper to the upcoming winter, I miss you,

The fire knows, the fairy knows,

All the spirits of cold know.

I miss you, for the love of the upcoming winter,

As the hope holds.