I worked hard to wrap my heart around like an ivy, so lush. Regardless of the four seasons, it grows crazily in every day when I can see you and when I can't see you, and will never wither.
Whose waiting makes time desolate, and whose loneliness spreads into sadness? Who will be whose past, who will become whose past? In fact, these answers have nothing to do with time at all. As early as the first glance at each other, one's heart has already decided: who will be a passing cloud and who will be forever.