半袖 (bànxiù)

I gaze at your profile while you apathetically count the kapok blossoms
The boys on their bikes, in a pack, go whistling by, chasing after laughter

At that flower shop on the corner, I stop in front of the red roses
In the instant you hesitate, the memories also drift so far away

You love to wear loose-fitting shirts, you resist any feeling of being tied down
Lost in thought, I fall behind you, and you don't even turn your head back

The wind lifts up your sleeve
A silent fluttering, a silent wave goodbye
The torn-off rose petals, like teardrops

I rush to catch up and walk by your side, only to discover at the edge of your collar
A single strand of my hair, nestling diagonally against your chest

I gently pull back the hand I extended, deciding instead to leave it for you as a keepsake
To stay with you a little longer in my place, to see you across to the other side of the street

The wind lifts your sleeve, just like a pair of white wings
Flying farther and farther away, farther and farther away