Walking into this hall of gratification,
carrying all your hopes and dream;
individual faces wearing individual masks,
not one person remembers how you look.
In a corner after three rounds of drinks,
you're stubbornly singing anguished songs.
Listening to it being drowned out in the hustle and bustle,
You pick up your glass and say to yourself:
A toast to the rising sun; A toast to the moonlight.
For awakening my longings and warming the frozen window.
So that I can soar against the winds without looking back,
Without the fear of the storm in my heart or the frost under my eyes.
A toast to my hometown; A toast to the hinterlands.
For guarding my kindness and for urging me to grow,
so the roads from North to South no longer seem as long or as slow.
And the soul is no longer without a resting place.
Restless and fidgeting privileged guests,
Presumptuous and conceited they put on an act.
Pretending, dancing, exhausted.
You pick up your glass and say to yourself:
A toast to the rising sun; A toast to the moonlight.
For awakening my longings and warming the frozen window.
So that I can soar against the winds without looking back,
Without the fear of the storm in my heart or the frost under my eyes.
A toast to my hometown; A toast to the hinterlands.
For guarding my kindness and for urging me to grow,
so the roads from North to South no longer seem as long or as slow.
And the soul is no longer without a resting place.
A toast to tomorrow; A toast to the past.
For bearing my body and the shoulders that have become heavy.
Even though I've never believed that *greatness lasts forever,
Life is painful and short, so why the need to stay stuck in the past?
A toast to freedom; A toast to death.
For pardoning my ordinariness and erasing my turmoil.
Okay, it's always a mess to leave as dawn breaks.
The sober are always the most absurd.
The sober are always the most absurd.