For the English speakers out there, here's a (bit more accurate) translation of the lyrics: What if my voice could remember it all The anxiety, joy, and bitterness when it recited your name If you are a love song Then I am a glimpse of the setting sun across the window From dawn to dusk You are a pigeon carrying a message, flying across the sky I am the ink, signed across the page I have thousands upon thousands of words to say Hidden between the trembling characters and lines Day by day, year by year Everytime you turn around, it’s like our first meeting again Pining is a spring silkworm Bite by bite, eating away the time Spring winds and autumn rains, my pen lowers into heartache The heart is a flower, blossoming brilliantly in the wilderness The lingering will of the falling leaves The willingness of the wind The heart’s garden is a barren land The warmth is fading away There are lights, urging us to part There are fires in our hearts lighting up this heartbreak I’ve left a window in my heart The moonlight stretches out our shadows Just let me surrender to love Let my steps turn into frost Stumbling through the evening on my path home Day by day, year by year There is a brilliant love in my heart, but my body is like an answer The youth that has left Is bedraggled, see my words; they are as seeing myself Spring winds and autumn rains, my pen lowers into heartache The heart is a flower, blossoming brilliantly in the wilderness The lingering will of the falling leaves The willingness of the wind The heart’s garden is a barren land The warmth is fading away Promises are always unceasingly greedy, latching onto the final straw The moonlight dries away our tears Love and hate each have their own place, we are covered with wounds Yet are unscathed in our dreams, even if we try to avoid the memories, we cannot help but to think back again Day by day, year by year Everytime you turn around, it’s like our first meeting again The youth that has left Is bedraggled, see my words; they are as seeing myself Spring winds and autumn rains, my pen lowers into heartache The heart is a flower, blossoming brilliantly in the wilderness The lingering will of the falling leaves The willingness of the wind I wander again and again in familiar grounds, my steps light An unwilling willingness An unwilling willingness Here's what it actually means: What if my voice could remember all the anxiety, joy, and bitterness when it recited your name. There are thousands of things I have not yet said. My pining eats away at time, and my pen lowers to write of my heartache. My heart was a blossoming flower, but your willingness to remain unmoved could make barren even my lingering will. The lights around us urge us to part, yet the fires of my heart light up this youthful heartbreak. The years have gone by, and the youth you once saw is now bedraggled by time, but see my words; they are me. Our promises greedily latched on to our final straws, but the years have dried out tears. With our love, we have been covered with wounds, yet we remain perfect in our dreams. Even if we try not to remember, we cannot forget. And I wander the places I once called home, my footsteps light and shallow. This is an unwilling willingness, a conclusion we have been forced to accept.