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The window sill jasmine opens again, the swing rusts, the shirt closet bottom. Time wipes away fingerprints and dyed white hair. I can’t take the agreement with me. I wait for memories, leaving only endless silence. The jasmine on the windowsill blooms again, the swing is rusted, and the shirt is pressed at the bottom of the box. Time wipes away fingerprints, dyes the hair gray, but can’t take away the promises. I guard the memories and wait, leaving only endless silence. Words Huang Junhua composer Huang Junhua singer Huang Junhua words JunHua Huang composer JunHua Huang singer JunHua Huang lyrics: jasmine on the windowsill opened again, no one picked it for the third time, rust climbed up last year’s swing, squeaking like a sigh, I counted the mottled light and shadow on the wall, a leaf wobbled into the teacup, and when the rain passed gently, it passed through the tip of the tongue, I am still watching the swing of the old clock. The news brought by the wind from afar is not you. The original waiting is a silent echo. Fold your shirt into squares and press it on the bottom of the box like a secret,