Taking stock silently, more than 8,000 days have already slid away from me, like a drop of water on a tip in the ocean, my days are dripping into the stream of time, soundless, traceless. My forehead, and tears trickle down my cheeks.
In the silence, more than eight thousand days have slipped away from my hands, like a drop of water on the tip of a needle in the sea, my day drips in the stream of time, no sound, no shadow. I couldn't help but burst into tears.
In silence, more than 8000 days have slipped away from my hands, like a drop of water on the tip of a needle in the sea, my days drop in the flow of time, no sound, no shadow. I couldn't help but cry.<BR>