I remember quite clearly now when the story happened. The autumn leaves were floating in measure down to the ground, recovering the lake, where we used to swim like children, under the sun was there to shine. That time we used to be happy. Well, I thought we were. But the truth was that you had been longing to leave me, not daring to tell me. On that precious night, watching the lake, vaguely conscious, you said: Our story is ending. The rain was killing the last days of summer. You had been killing my last breath of love, since a long time ago. I still don't think I'm gonna make it through another love story. You took it all away from me. And there I stand, I knew I was going to be the one left behind. But still I'm watching the lake, vaguely conscious, and I know my life is ending. 参考译文： 我仍清晰地记得故事发生的时候。秋叶翻飞，飘落一地。我们曾经孩子般戏水畅游过的小湖盖满落叶，在太阳下闪着光。那时我们幸福过。哦，我是这样认为的。可事实上你早就想离开我，只是不敢告诉我罢了。在那美丽的夜晚，眼望湖水，恍惚中听见你说：我们的故事已到尽头。 雨水扼杀着所剩无几的夏日，而你很久以来也在扼杀我奄奄一息的爱。我仍不认为自己会再去经历另一段爱情故事。你把一切都带走了。我只有悄然伫立，早已明白自己将会是那个被遗弃的人。而我依然凝望着湖水，恍惚中，生命正离我而去。
英语诗歌或散文
From a distance, the snow like small Eun-joo, like drizzle point, such as willow flowers, one after another for us to hang spondee the roof snow white curtain, the rise of the snow through the curtain looked sparse, and that high-rise buildings nearby, faint about about, like clouds, the clouds like in years, is particularly good-looking. Occasionally heard creak A snow pressure to cut off the branches.
To the school. Dense snow, dancing all over the place, and pretty soon the entire campus into a silver on the world, the ground turned into a carpet, wearing a white sub-trees, from building with white hat, a cotton covered with houses, that Tong branches full of the pear tree branches covered with a snowball and silver ball, from afar, Qiong Yu-shu-chi, powder, full of poetic.
More than the United States and the small snowflakes ah! Began mid-yo, but also small and thick and soft and light, like that noble white swan gently shake the wings, small patches of feathers, down you long Durian; then the small size of the snowflakes , thicken, and become numerous, as one of hard rock heaven Qionghua Yushu, the white petals have no time to fly down; Then, under the snow the more the bigger, small snowflakes in the air you pull, I pull, you cling to I you, one round, one everywhere, as if countless tear to pieces of the cotton ball rolling down from the sky, At that time, the whole world has become vast and beautiful