The slanting rain fell on the glass window
The yellow leaves are on the windowsill
Young man with umbrella
He cast his eyes through a curtain of rain
Passers by looked at him
He played a harmonica
Goodbye, the melody is singing
Goodbye is not what it used to be
After spring flowers bloom, autumn moon clear
The winter sun sets and the insects sing
Who will sing and who will listen
Who shouts for youth
The wind outside the window blows the bell in the window
The people in the window are the scenery outside
Forgive me for my young poems and customs
Forgive my incoherent advice
After the beauty of the old young heart
Broken strings, old bosom friend
Who will sing and who will listen
Who shouts for youth
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