Our Era Is Over

History flows on.
Without knowing its beginning,
Without knowing its end,
It continues onward, unknowing.
History does not care
about an individual’s pain.
Someone’s tears of blood,
A group’s humiliation-
To the descendants who follow,
they may remain as nothing more than a few lines in writing.
No, in most cases, they are never preserved at all.
They slip from memory.
I am one who survived, bearing the shame of my ancestors;
We are all remnants of a history that has already passed.
Even if I loathe it,
Even if it pains me,
I cannot halt its flow.
We cannot stop our era from passing
just because we despise it.
Our era has passed.