The seasons die out, one after another – cries of death take the place of wind…
A man, unsusceptible to the charms of the city, looks up at the moon and notices how inelegant it all is.

In an everyday life that’s like trudging through mud, the rain itself tastes of alcohol;
Wandering the city with apathetic eyes, suspicious innocents gather around the station.

In order to uphold the unsteady fact that I’m “me”, it’s like my half-transparent shadow has come to life.
If I were to sing in the rain, would these clouds finally part? My life is bone dry amidst this bustling summer…

I address a poem of farewell to my loathsome past;
I have to abandon the remains of these terrible days- these horrid dreams… even if it kills me!
In the next life, a flower will bloom to tell you a poem of transition;
Filled with suffering – grieving and moaning, but never dying out… even when starved of sunlight.

Each tomorrow dies out, one after another; even hurrying, they’re unreachable as they become the past…
But for we who hurry through life, our flames are fickle; we’re always adding meaning after the fact.
In order to uphold the unsteady fact that you’re “you”, your unstable ego ventures to despise you.
If you were just able to sing, would the darkness be dispelled? Your life has been left up to a dream rotten at its core.

I address a poem of farewell to my loathsome past;
I have to abandon the remains of these terrible days- these horrid dreams… even if it kills me!
In the next life, a flower will bloom to tell you a poem of transition;
Filled with suffering – grieving and moaning, but never dying out… even when starved of sunlight.

With a tired face, we limp along… squinting our eyes at the reflected sunset.
We spend time wondering if we should go on, or head back – but after the slightest hesitation, our forms are seen moving onward.
That’s right, we have to go! Even if we have nothing, we have to go on living!
After all, our lives were scrounged up along the way; we’ll leave what little we can behind as we proceed.

I address a nostalgic poem, reflecting upon my expired past;
When I realize those terrible days- those horrid dreams… were really the beginning, they seem so far away!
Our flowers will surely wilt one day, returning to the circle of life –
Filled with suffering – grieving and moaning, but never dying out… even when starved of sunlight.

The seasons revive, one after another.

Seasons die one after another. The voice of death becomes wind
An undrunk man, in a colored city. Looking at the moon is tasteless here

In a life stuck in mud, the rain tasted like alcohol
With eyes so apathetic, wandering in the city I’m an innocent man acting suspicious at the station

It’s like a translucent shadow possesses life, which I cannot certainly identify with myself
If I sing in the rain, will the clouds break? A dried-up life in the busy summer time

Dear my damned past, this is a poem to break off relations
Even if I breathed my last here with the remains of horrible days and nightmares
After ages, flowers will blossom and come down to you. This is a poem for transition
Even if I suffer and grieve, with no light coming down onto the lasting song

Tomorrows die one after another. Even if we hurry we never catch up, and they become our past
Live recklessly, ignited light lasts for only a moment. The meaning of life will follow
Even if your insecure self hates you wondering if you’re you
When you sing, the darkness may clear off. This is just a life given by a rotten dream

Dear my damned past, this is a poem to break off relations
Even if I breathed my last here with the remains of horrible days and nightmares
After ages, flowers will blossom and come down to you. This is a poem for transition
Even if I suffer and grieve, with no light coming down onto the lasting song

With a weary face and foot-dragging, frowning my face against the reflected sunset
I am uncertain if I should go or return. But soon I find my back setting off
Yes, I must go. I must live, even if without purposes
We are the picked-up lives after all. We’ll leave them here

Dear my late past, this is a poem of nostalgia
Just as I thought those horrible days and nightmares were the beginning, they were already far away
Flowers fall, and return to the cycle of rebirth
Even if I suffer and grieve, with no light coming down onto the lasting song

Seasons come to life one after another

季節は次々死んでいく　絶命の声が風になる
色めく街の　酔えない男　月を見上げるのはここじゃ無粋

泥に足もつれる生活に　雨はアルコールの味がした
アパシーな目で　彷徨う街で　挙動不審のイノセント　駅前にて

僕が僕と呼ぶには不確かな　半透明な影が生きてる風だ
雨に歌えば　雲は割れるか　賑やかな夏の干涸びた命だ

拝啓　忌まわしき過去に告ぐ　絶縁の詩
最低な日々の　最悪な夢の　残骸を捨てては行けず　ここで息絶えようと
後世　花は咲き君に伝う　変遷の詩
苦悩にまみれて　嘆き悲しみ　それでも途絶えぬ歌に　陽は射さずとも

明日は次々死んでいく　急いても追いつけず過去になる
生き急げ僕ら　灯る火はせつな　生きる意味などは後からつく
君が君でいるには不確かな　不安定な自我が　君を嫌おうと
せめて歌えば　闇は晴れるか　根腐れた夢に預かった命だ

拝啓　忌まわしき過去に告ぐ　絶縁の詩
最低な日々の　最悪な夢の　残骸を捨てては行けず　ここで息絶えようと
後世　花は咲き君に伝う　変遷の詩
苦悩にまみれて　嘆き悲しみ　それでも途絶えぬ歌に　陽は射さずとも

疲れた顔に足を引きずって　照り返す夕日に顔をしかめて
行こうか　戻ろうか　悩みはするけど　しばらくすれば　歩き出す背中
そうだ行かねばならぬ　何はなくとも生きて行くのだ
僕らは　どうせ拾った命だ　ここに置いてくよ　なけなしの

拝啓　今は亡き過去を想う　望郷の詩
最低な日々が　最悪な夢が　始まりだったと思えば　随分遠くだ
どうせ花は散り　輪廻の輪に還る命
苦悩にまみれて　嘆き悲しみ　それでも途絶えぬ歌に　陽は射さずとも

季節は次々生き返る