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Chapter 450

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    ?

    Shorthand

    The bleak autumn wind blows through the dry reeds,

    In the twilight the reeds are gray;

    A flock of crows flapped their wings and flew from the willows to the distant village.

    An old man standing and resting alone by the lake beach,

    Feeling the wind in my hair, the night and the snow that is about to fall,

    He looked from the dark shore to the light,

    There is a road between the cloud and the lake

    The farthest beach still shimmers warmly in the light;

    On the golden shore, happiness is like a dream and a poem.

    He tightly held the flickering picture in his eyes,

    Thinking of his hometown, thinking of his beautiful years,

    Watch that gold dim, watch it go out,

    ? Turn around and slowly

    From the willow tree to the distant village.

    ¡ª¡ªHesse (remember the website URL: www.hlnovel.com
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