Ngồi nghe mưa rơi và đếm những cơn mưa đi qua cuộc đời. Có thể không nhớ hết được những cơn mưa, như những kỷ niệm mà mấy ai nhớ hết. Nhưng nếu có không nhớ hết thì đã sao, vì cuối cùng những cơn mưa cũng tan biến vào hư vô!

The season starts with hints and whispers. Autumn’s first glimpse comes in the glint of firey color amidst the green, the first note caught in a cool crisp breeze. But autumn, like spring, comes quickly after that first glimpse. Spring bursts forth in green, springing up, exhilarating like a rockets swift ascent. Autumn bursts asunder in a brilliant panoply of color, awesome like some blazing wreckage plunging to crash in the bleakness of winter. Spring is stitched together in its glory, Autumn unravels in the midst of its splendor. The two seasons are alike in displaying beauty, but are different in nearly every other aspect.