From the publisher’s website:
Farewell, my dear, may you walk alone down the dawn paths of this age, encounter the freedom
of love and death, into the icy river winds, without even a tomb, into the fierce blizzards,
without even a song, may you go flowing, flowing like a petal.
Your tears will soon become a stream, and your love will soon become a song,
so farewell now, little bird of tears, flying with mountains held in your beak;
fly on, my dear, and do not look back.
– excerpt from “A Letter Not Sent”