Picking lotus in the wind

Standing on the White Beach

Looking up from afar, the feeling is endless

When will you be able to return it

The waves are rolling and endless

My tears have dried up

Dear ones, dear ones, can you hear me

My soft call

The small trees in front of the door have become green

When will we meet in front of the hall

The moon shines in front of the window

The same Acacia

The same sorrow of separation

Round and round

day in and day out

year after year

It's hard to see each other across the sea

Dear ones, dear ones, I'm looking forward to it

Looking forward to meeting tomorrow

The bird is tired of flying

Looking forward to your family's return

Standing on the White Beach

Looking up from afar, the feeling is endless

When will you be able to return it

The waves are rolling and endless

My Acacia tears have dried up

Dear ones, dear ones, can you hear me

My soft call

The small trees in front of the door have become green

When will we meet in front of the hall

Dear ones, dear ones, can you hear me

My soft call

The small trees in front of the door have become green

When will we meet in front of the hall