The dark corridor, the endless length, and the echoing footsteps belong to whom?
Whose eyes are those sad eyes reflected in that dim light?
Whose sorrow and misfortune is the soliloquy murmuring about?
In your dream, who makes you willing to perish?
My you, why do you have to sleep so hard?
That thousand-year-old black ice has sealed not only your body, but also your heart, which has long since passed away with the wind?