To The Person I Love
Sleet fell on the waters of river.
The time they spent together as lovers last night,
melted away completely.
Why thought of him, who she left on the grass?
How much longer will I have to wonder along the edges of pain,
to kill of all the memories?
If memories of love were sleet or a scarecrow lost in a wrong ricefield,
no regrets are needed.
I just want them to gone.
Only disillusionment is left in the lonely field of grass.
An old love crosses the river of oblivion.
If only, I could also cross this field of futility.
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