#LyricsofBTS 134340 (Album: Love yourself: Tear)
Today, 134340 was played (my heartbreak is still strong), so what better time to revisit one of BTS’s most ridiculously clever pieces of lyricism?
Because beneath the heartbreak, the entire song is built around one astronomical fact that Pluto was stripped of its status as a planet and reduced to the designation 134340.
And BTS turn that into a story about being stripped of your place in someone’s universe.
어떤 이름도 없이 여전히 널 맴도네
Without a name to myself, I still orbit you.
This is such a devastating opening to the metaphor. Pluto was stripped of its planetary status in 2006 and assigned the designation 134340. So “without a name” isn't simply emotional language — it is literally built into Pluto's history.
BTS take that astronomical fact and turn it into heartbreak: the narrator has lost not only the person, but the identity they had within that person's world.
And despite that, they still orbit them.
The verb 맴돌다 means to linger/circle around something. It gives the breakup a physical shape: the relationship has ended, but the speaker's trajectory hasn't.
작별이 무색해 그 변함없는 색채
Our goodbye became meaningless; that unchanging color.
The word 무색해 is doing double duty here. Literally, it evokes something becoming colorless, but 무색하다 can also mean something is rendered meaningless or insignificant.
So the lyric can be read simultaneously as a color metaphor and as a statement about the meaninglessness of the farewell. The goodbye is “colorless” because nothing has really changed for the speaker. They are still orbiting.
나도 너의 별이었는데
I, too, used to be your star.
This is where the astronomical metaphor becomes relational.
A star isn't merely something beautiful in the sky. In this song, being someone's star means having a place in their universe and the devastating implication is that the speaker once had that place. Now they don't.
무너진 왕성에 남은 명이 뭔 의미가 있어
The brilliance of this line is almost impossible to capture in translation.
Pluto's Korean name is 명왕성 (冥王星). The lyric breaks apart that name through the repeated sound 명 (myeong), which can correspond to different Chinese characters and meanings: darkness, name, and life.
So when the lyric asks what meaning the remaining 명 has after the “king star” has collapsed, it simultaneously invokes name, darkness and life.
Pluto has lost its status. It has lost its name.
And the speaker is asking what remains of a life after losing the identity that gave it meaning.
That isn't just a clever reference. The wordplay makes Pluto's astronomical demotion into an emotional demotion.
난 맴돌고만 있어 / 난 헛돌고만 있어
I'm just orbiting / I'm just going in circles.
The distinction between 맴돌다 and 헛돌다 is important.
The first suggests continuously circling around someone; the second carries the sense of turning without getting anywhere.
So the repetition isn't redundant. The speaker is physically moving, but emotionally going nowhere.
And that is the genius of 134340:
Pluto's orbit becomes the architecture of heartbreak.
The speaker doesn't simply feel abandoned. They become a celestial body that has been demoted, renamed and pushed to the edge of the system—yet still follows the same gravitational pull.
The relationship ended. The orbit didn't.