The bias of the moonlight tonight is so beautiful and cool to the eye, what a beauty that will be later by many tears that fall. Moon! There are so many stories that are present in a simple but meaningful word. Not just one word, but the tears that fell were unable to speak. Tears and memories together with one word that will never be spoken again. There are only names and memories I've forgotten.
Now twilight has arrived, trying to forget all restlessness and tiredness from waiting. And began to string hope through the stories that I wrote on a piece of paper and which I will always meet through the ink of the pen. It turns out that the crowd of storks also wants to wait at the dusk gate first, maybe waiting is sometimes better than just talking quietly without making a sound, like waiting for a single who never has the certainty of love.
From a mountain far away I tell stories while playing the violin. From some green trees, a crowd of cranes returned home and with a proud feeling that they can still fly freely in this world.