There is a brief introduction to your weather.

Sunset permeates high school classrooms,

Beauty is not a warm sunset,

But from my point of view, your old desk and chair.

Walking around the glass window on the beach,

Beauty is not a whirlwind,

But from my point of view, where you used to stand.

Barbed wire separates the snow-covered playground,

Beauty is not pure snow,

But I stood there,

I turned my head and saw you.

In my eyes, the weather is neither good nor bad.

Those that have special significance are all because of you.

The weather is different,

But to me, you will always be you.