The sorrow of growing up, the myth of childhood.
I remember that on a certain day of a certain year
The boy held the girl's hand tightly all the way.
I remember that on a certain day of a certain year
Two pairs of young hands,
Carve eternity behind the young tree.
Until
Childish promises are gradually blown away by the wind,
until
The wounds in my heart were covered by ten years.
And the tender words carved behind the childhood tree gradually grew,
More profound.