It turns out that hate can be forgotten.
And love is always love.
But so what?
I never thought there were so many mistakes in the world.
Even my sadness has become normal.
We loved each other deeply, but missed each other again and again.
Machiavellianism and love, family affection and hatred,
All the time entangled with fragile nerves,
We give up nothing.
Everything is lost again.
Prosperity is gone, only forgiveness remains.
You say it's cold in the morning and cold in the evening.
I sigh at the late twilight and the late moon.