I have been leaning against the railing of a tall building for a long time, and the wind is blowing thin. I am sad in endless spring, and my depression and sadness rise from the distant and boundless sky. Green grass, drifting clouds and smoke, hidden in the afterglow of sunset, no one understands my feeling of leaning against the railing.
I'm going to get drunk in my bohemian mood and raise a glass to sing, but I feel meaningless when I barely laugh. I'm getting thinner and thinner, but I haven't always regretted it. I'd rather look haggard because of her thinness.