The sound of the door in the prelude to "On the Shore of Lake Baikal" takes you and me to a cabin on the shore of Lake Baikal, listening to the author telling him and his story, and feeling his love and longing for him. In the end, that person is the person you are thinking of.
One night, when there were no waves in the lake, another person hummed in the wooden house, "On the shores of Lake Baikal, how many years later... The past goes with the wind."
From the time they met until they were well together, the story should only be known to them and Lake Baikal, but I think separation is something that people must go through. Regarding love, I want to write "calm and natural separation" for more people.
Intention: the dispersion of love, the awakening of self-love