$PI The train passes through dusk, skimming over clusters of parasol tree shadows,

I don't need to inquire about your current name and whereabouts.
No need to ask if time has been gentle to you.
I am just following the old path, heading to a promise made back then, to see the wind of those years, the alley of those years, the street corner where parasol tree fluff was drifting.
It turns out I was not searching for the you of the past nor the you of now,
But for that unreturnable time, the moments wrapped in sunlight that we shared together.
When the wind rises again, fallen leaves once again cover the road we came from,
I gently wave my hand, like saying goodbye to myself long, long ago,
And also saying goodbye to you, who stood under the parasol tree.
No need to meet again; when we meet, time will have already decided.