to my soul brother

In the falling leaves seasons, Everyone seem to be a pathfinder.

Including you and me, Soul flight No.23 just landed somewhere.

There was no one to hold me, touch me except you, my brother.

There was no drink to fill up our heartless minds, except Soju, my mate.

Please Be with me and you could taste the one made by our sweet-sorrow memories.

On the falling leaves days, Nobody prepare the winter.

Only seeking the drink which could delay the winter.

Me and my brother can't swim as good as you in our sweet-sorrow memories.