Thousands of longings

Another year of autumn.
The rain like silver, leisurely landing in the south, is full of my
longings, but I can't write down all the feelings of missing, as
well as imagine that it is like the shape of smoke and clouds, so
thousands of longings, but not as much as the fallen leaves on
world millions.
The sound of rustling makes me notice the long shady path
covered with fallen leaves, the swing under the evergreen tree is
still there, autumn put my miss around.
About the longings, that is the wind blowing gently by my ears
as well as imperceptible thoughts, is the continuous drizzle of
flowers wisps of faint fragrance diffused up the whole hill, and
finally turning back to my side.
This is my seventeenth autumn in my life, since the arrival of
autumn that bleak pure beauty of autumn shook me, countless
times when I looked back, the mountains have been I stood at
the end of the clouds and looked away from one, I stood at the
end of the clouds, looking at one autumn after another.
By the continuous rain in autumn, the dazzling woose-leaves
send a cold sound, look at the mists and clouds, and when I
return, I see the sun setting on the western mountains.
I would like to have a prayer that is not vulgar, as well as the eyes
to look at the mountains again.
Such a season,
It is written in my heart as wordless lines of poetry.