No matter how miserable it is, tears will flow down my cheeks.
No matter how painful my heart is, my arms are unable to struggle.
Even if doom and darkness come on the wind, the night is biting.
We must also remember the words that have been ingrained in her ears since she was born:
The grass on the original plain grows brighter and wither every year. Wildfires never burn out, but spring breezes blow them again.
Yes, the spring breeze blows and gives birth again.