Sunflower, the sunflower outside the windowsill;
You can see her through the windowsill.
There are only three of them, no branches, just stuck in the ground like that;
Laughing wildly.
That laughter has magic,
Making people who see it feel as if they are bathed in sunlight.

A plain life,
Suddenly breaking out such a happy smile one day-
For no reason, whoever passes by and meets her,
Will start to worry about her life, right?
Will she swell up from the rainwater?
Will the scorching sun burn her?
Will she make it to the end of August, survive the autumn;
Be buried after winter, and revive in spring?
Does she know?
There are people watching her in the windowsill.

Say you don’t care, she doesn’t seem to mind either,
Caring like most of the passers-by who see her-
A few can’t help but doubt that she is made of plastic,
Guessing how long she will live.
Or has she never lived, just stuck in the ground,
Pretending?
Some people believe,
That she hasn’t found the right opportunity to express herself.

May the sunflower seeds peel off and fall off quickly with time,
Hide deep in the soil before the gardener uncle finds out;
After being nourished by the sunflower,
Survive the next year after paying the price of growth,
And live on in the surprise of everyone!
Live on properly.

Some people also count the seeds in their dreams,
And look at her through the windowsill every day
When they wake up in a certain green belt on a certain side
Of a certain unit building in the community:
May love continue, only life,
Survive in another form.