A Clockwork's Memories

A Clockwork's Memories

No matter how many seasons have past, I still can't recall anything. A waning moon.
Against a plot conspired by the whole world, I can't help but be deceived.

The bullet that was fired yesterday shot down my today.
That mayfly has fallen to the ground. Who is the liar?

The cold rain beats down on me.
I can feel it at the soles of my shoes, and in my heart.
Falling tears return to the sea,
reach the sky Aah then come soaking down again.

A notebook left behind on the table. The door is opening.
Even though I have never seen it before, this is clearly my handwriting.

Those words I said to you yesterday is now consoling my present self.
In the hole inside my memories, what have I lost?

Without raising any umbrella, I keep gazing
at the water being born, falling down, busting open,
like the Samsara of evaporation and deposition,
scraping away the earth.

The cold rain beats down on me.
I can feel it at the soles of my shoes, and in my heart.
Falling tears return to the sea,
reach the sky Aah then come soaking down again.