Which sower walks on the ground, sowing the seeds of fire in our hearts?
The seeds shoot out from his tightly clenched palms, like the arc of a rainbow, falling on frozen soil, fertile soil, and hot sand.
They lie there quietly, greedily absorbing our lives until they burst the land into pieces, in order to grow into the sunflower you see, that grass flower panicle, or that big chrysanthemum.
Let the rain of青春's tears come, let sorrow caress with tranquil hands, things are not as dark as you think.