When ashes seal up the frosted eave,
When chrysanthemums turn into dewdrops in fall,
I use the wilted vines to make luggage,
To go to a place far from home, covered with thistles and thorns.
When the earth is covered with leaves felled in sorrow,
When azaleas become faraway fog,
Wish me well, the loved one I miss the most,
That's the view of my back when I tell you goodbye.
Maybe the melancholy that has lost its way will tear my footsteps,
But I believe that the future will give me a pair of wings from dreams.
Even though the frustrating pain has already bruised me black and blue,
I firmly believe the light is in the distance.
Maybe the perplexed journey will tear at my arms,
But I believe that the future will give me a pair of wings from dreams.
Even though the wounds from setbacks have already made me stuck,
I firmly believe the light is in the distance.
I use my wings to rise up towards the waves at the horizon,
I use my body to drag [myself] up to the blood-red sun.
In the piercing and bitterly cold gales,
You will hear my shout praising the future.
Maybe the melancholy that has lost its way will tear my footsteps,
But I believe that the future will give me a pair of wings from dreams.
Even though the frustrating pain has already bruised me black and blue,
I firmly believe the light is in the distance.
Maybe the perplexed journey will tear at my arms,
But I believe that the future will give me a pair of wings from dreams.
Even though the wounds from setbacks have already made me stuck,
I firmly believe the light is in the distance.