I wanted to write a poem for you, but forgot how to begin. I wanted to sing a song for you, but forgot how to open my mouth. I once wrote poems for you and sang songs for you. Later on, I left home, followed you, but forgot how to write poems or sing songs. But I'm not afraid because of your love. Later on, I found that your love was missing a corner. So my heart broke a little, scattering flowers all over the ground. I want to write a poem for you, sing a song for you, and make up for that missing corner. But I found myself so insignificant like a leaf. Listen, loneliness is singing; look, solitude is writing poetry.