A few days ago I tweeted and profile-posted this message:

靜雞雞咁我走啦，好似我靜雞雞咁嚟，fing 一 fing 件衫，唔拎走一舊雲。 嗰棵榆樹下面潭水，唔係泉水而係彩虹，喺藻葉之間搓碎，將彩虹咁既夢整沉左

Yes, I am serious about this message. I am leaving (very soon).

As I said in the tweet, I was serious. As many are curious about the Chinese text, here I am translating this poem into English. The poem was originally a famous poem written by a Chinese modern poet when he left Cambridge.

Note that I am not very good at English literature, so the poem may sound pretty ugly in English. The original poem was very beautiful. I just jokingly translated it from written Chinese to Cantonese. Words in brackets are citations by me.

Quietly (With stealth, or unnoticed) I leave,
just like I quietly came.
I wave my sleeves (a pretty cool gesture people do when they are determined to leave a place),
not bringing away a piece of cloud.

The pond under the elm tree,
it is not pond water (mountain spring water as in original text) but rainbows.
The rainbows are squeezed/rubbed to pieces among the algae leaves (wat?),
sinking the rainbow-like dreams.

Indeed, all we have here are rainbow-like dreams. A similar belief is also shown in several lines in the End Poem:

• And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.
• and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream
• And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.
• But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen? ... That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.