Someday, the sound of your name will fade into the tragedy of a forgotten harana.

You will be gone, and I will long to erase your memory from my thoughts, wash away the traces of times spent with you.

You will be gone like the kundimans once sung by our grandfathers to our beloved grandmothers.

You will become a scar, like a deep cut on my skin—permanent.

Someday, I will long to forget your name and the sound of it. And I will have a hard time doing so because forgetting someone you once loved is also forgetting the life you shared with them.

Just like our ancestors with their cherished harana, you will become a beautiful memory that happened to me.