A youthful life, a routine of joys and sorrows. . . .
I said I wouldn't cry, but I finally shed tears. . .
The most lush days in my life, how many traces are left that have not been erased? Or is it forever?
The bit of orange in the memory is like the sun god gaining eternal life in the years. .
Will you still remember me? Under the distant orange trees. . .
But I refuse to forget. Maybe it's not that I can't, but I just don't want to. . . .