春花未落雨先來，風搖空牀舊夢開。
人影不見聲未散，一帘樹影過塵埃。
Before the petals made their fall,
the sky had wept its silver call.
A hush between the wind and rain,
where memories bloom, then fade again.
No footstep stirred the softened ground,
yet whispers circled all around—
not words, but shadows, passing slow,
where once a voice, now echoes grow.