Good night and fare well; the evening bells toll my death knell. Take up arms in flowers; cursed be these lives of ours.
Good day and fair morrow; let us usher in joy and cast away sorrow. Pluck the blooming love of flowers; blessed be these lives of ours.
It's you, and it's me. And how I can't catch up to time. It's the wind, and the silence. And my heartbeats that sound with yours.
I will never reach it, will I? Not until I reach you, but you, too, are unreachable. Am I, to you, as you are, to me? I know, but don't, until I see you again.
Stay right there, so that I can find you, but come to me; find me. Wait for me; I'm waiting for you. Meet me there, where we agreed so long ago. I will be there, and so you will be too.
I have never believed myself to be worthy to be responsible for a life. If it should come to pass, however, what is it that I should do? Step away or plow forward? Hug her close or push her away? Be as I am or be what my parents wanted?
People call me unambitious. They think I am so carefree. They ask me about my dreams and I tell them I have none, for they have laughed and jeered when I said otherwise. They act disappointed, saying "Such a wasted young soul," and yet they tell me I can never make it. So, I will remain silent until they will listen to my voice.