Heavenly stranger, coming and going in haste,
The bustling streets and alleys, people moving about, hearts wandering.
Afraid of impermanence, like a cloud blocking the sunlight,
Every glance, there is unease in the heart.
The neon lights flickering at night, loneliness is elongated,
The flame of dreams, swaying in this hustle and bustle.
The bag is filled with expectations, yet also with confusion,
Not knowing where this wandering path leads.
Only when grown-up do we understand that the distant place is our hometown.
That moonlight in our hearts illuminates the direction of our journey.
Even if the wind and rain dampens our wings,
we must still fly towards the distance, spreading our wings and soaring.
The time spent in a foreign land leaves scars of growth,
but the call from the distant place never stops echoing.
Because there is the power of dreams in our hearts,
the distant place is just like the appearance of our hometown.
Amid the bustling crowd, one searches for light,
In that warm corner, is there soil for dreams?
Afraid of the impermanence, fate is like an invisible net,
Each struggle is a desire to break free from the confining frame.
The city's lights reflect on faces,
The stubbornness in the eyes shines in the darkness.
Having traversed mountains and seas, witnessed both prosperity and desolation,
The distant place in the heart still lies in that unreachable place.
In the foreign land, stories flow on,
Each experience is a melody of life.
Afraid of the impermanence, time carves the face,
But the belief in my heart has never been buried by time.
Through the seasons of spring, summer, autumn and winter,
I have witnessed the blooming and fading of flowers.
The call from afar becomes clearer and louder.
I water hope with sweat, and write the story with courage.
Believe that one day, I will be able to return to that place that haunts my dreams.
Only when grown-up do we understand that the distant place is our hometown.
That moonlight in our hearts illuminates the direction of our journey.
Even if the wind and rain dampens our wings,
we must still fly towards the distance, spreading our wings and soaring.
The time spent in a foreign land leaves scars of growth,
but the call from the distant place never stops echoing.