Rice Shop

March rains drift to the south swaying

It’s you in the rice shop where it’s empty

a hand holds an apple another holds the fate

your own fragrance is what you sought

all these passersby outside of windows

throw their sights to the moist road

your dance streaks through the empty room

then time just fades into smoke

lover, do you know tomorrow is coming

on the dock is our boat waiting

I’d wash my hair climb to the top of the mast

to hold up our grape-leaf-like home

lover do you know tomorrow is coming

on the dock is our boat waiting

I’d wash my hair climb to the top of the mast

to hold up our grape-leaf-like home