On that Spring day, I will go to see you.
You are someone that I have lost.
You are someone who is no longer here.
I will go see you who are no longer here.
With a glass of pure water and a lovely flower in my hands.
‘I am no longer here? That is not true,’
the missing person says,
‘I am not nowhere. In fact, I am not going anywhere.
I will always be here.’
As the branches of the spring trees race to blossom and
reach upward to grasp for the misty sky.
On that Spring day, I will go to see you.
With a glass of pure water and a lovely flower in my hands.