（I wrote Chinese first and then translated it into English)
(AA BB CC DD EE)
When leaves fall, twigs wither, flowers die,
Wild geese are flying high in the sky.
Yonder, on the cold water a boat drifts away,
Wind blows, trees cry like ghost and sway.
The moving weeds scare the crows,
looking spiral are the mountain roads.
A lonely traveller hurries on his journey,
Alas! No body can understand me.
Only insects are chirping over there,
ignoring my sadness, free of care.
Nov 30, 2013
Modified on Dec. 27， 2016