2. Get sick

The bright day rested on the shoulder of the darkness, Having sunk into the monthly arc, And having uttered, for whom shall I rise, My pain is immensely painful. I look forward to a new day in the world Cunning and round-eyed laughter, And again souls are tired of calculating Sin is a deadly sting. The heart is new and overgrown, In the image is a word, said “not so.” I know I thoughtlessly throw out “the truth in the world” Give a happy sign with a kiss. And now, like hundreds of fates, We'll spend our souls in paradise to ache I, so that I can return home forever, All people can be easily hurt.