Recently, I happened to watch the final video of a girl who chose euthanasia. I feel that writing poetry can be somewhat cruel, but upon serious reflection, for her, this poem is incredibly fitting.
·--
The falling leaves flutter and fly into the soil.
The golden autumn is bright and the beauty is rich.
The youthful face deceives the passing years.
The elderly with white hair mourn the fleeting years.
The sadness of parting always surges to the heart like waves.
The number of life's turning points has been exhausted.
That unconditional love
can only leave one feeling desolate and sorrowful.