When I studied in New York, to get to my school from home, I had to pass through a small cemetery squeezed in between the sky-crappers of Manhattan. The iron gate was locked all year round, the graves were covered with withered weed, no one had ever cleaned them. Passing by the cemetery again after a cold winter, I heard joyful chirps. I looked at the ruined stone tablets, recalling a piece of Chinese lyrics from a thousand years ago:
A feast in springtime,
I sing a line of song everytime I drink a cup of wine.
Then I bow to make three wishes:
Firstly, I wish you a long, long life.
Secondly, I wish eternal health to be with me.
Thirdly, I wish we live as the swallows on the roof-beam,
Being each other's companion years after years.