Unwilling to take part in something improper, how could I predict things would turn out against my wishes?
The flower in the centre of my heart as withered, time cannot turn itself back
My memories are whirling and twirling, the pain is only in the depths of my heart.
My only wish to live without regrets, and fly far away with the flowers fragrance.
A bottle of wine, a body covered in dust and ashes
Memories go back and forth, a life without regrets
From spring to autumn, life comes and goes. Is it right to be vain?
I’m waiting for the flowers to return and bloom again, intoxicating me
Sincerely hoping that my lifespan no longer withering away.
In my memories life comes and goes, I realise clearly in my heart
Is it right to be vain?
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