At least in that dilapidated, dark and sinister orphanage
There is still a glimmer of warmth and hope, inspiring everyone who has it to keep moving forward.
Even though that trace of beauty is constantly trampled on and spurned, blasphemed and despised
I can't say what my childhood there was, I can only say what it was like
Like a cool breeze in early autumn, so insignificant but enough to make a gash on your body
Like a cat whining in the evening, the sound is so small that it wakes you up in panic from a gorgeous dream.
Everything is as illusory as a dream that never wakes up
Everyone is immersed in a huge and beautiful dream and cannot extricate themselves
But I am willing to follow the footsteps of time and go back to that barren grassland
Against the direction of the strongest wind in winter, against the traces of blooming flowers
to find everything that belongs to us
Be an intruder who is incompatible with this era