On that blue border of the sky, in the clouds,
Two hands are very anxious today, hoping for a little touch.
One holds a red rose, in the color of intense love,
The other holds a pink flower, in the form of gentle shame.
In the middle is its primordial distance, like a vast ocean,
Even though it comes close, it cannot be touched, why is God like this?
One rose is downward, the other is rising high,
Pain is accumulated in every silent corner of two hearts.
The clouds are watching this longing, the wind is blowing slowly,
When will these two hands merge, tearing apart all the gaps?
The fragrance of the mind remains as a flower, this hope will not fade,
No matter how far the distance is, love lives on
