My ego’s so weak and indecisive, faced with this enormous sense that I’m out of place both in the hustle and bustle of the city and the fields of the countryside.
When I shout out something, I’m flung back on the spot by lead-colored clouds, and I fall back into misery and get lost in feeling like it’s all been for nothing.
A fool who always says, “Just as I thought, it’s hopeless.” Try letting a single tear fall from the frustration.
Even today any favorable winds have fallen by the roadside, and the light shines on the other side from the pier I’ve so longed to reach.
Should I go on or turn back? The decision to advance or retreat is thrust before me. Reality is always severe and shows no emotions.
The roulette on which I’ve bet everything—my livelihood, how society sees me, the stability of my future—gently spins.
I say in desperation, “It’s not a win-or-lose situation,” but I was burdened with my fair share of reasons I had to win.
The letter from that person, the promise I made to my friends, the lover I’ll marry, the person I used to be…
People disappear from the streets one by one; no one will come to greet me at the station at sunset.
I have no bravery, ambition, or aspirations. I’m still living despite that, so what does that make me?
I drag my feet along from streetlight to streetlight, linking together the lights of the streets like the lines of a constellation.
I don’t stop or turn back, intent on linking together the lights of the streets like the lines of a constellation.
The beginning was an immature, dazzling, fantastical dream. Many boys were in high spirits about our futures.
Even when we made mistakes and fell down, we cried and laughed, and we called that our youth and began our journey to enter society.
Gradually more and more of us dropped out, one here and there, unable to escape from our infantile attitudes
Or in the darkness of a moratorium.
The last few fools left behind console one another, and when I realized it, I was left all alone, the most foolish of them all.
People disappear from the streets one by one; no one will come to greet me at the station at sunset.
I have no bravery, ambition, or aspirations. I’m still living despite that, so what does that make me?
I drag my feet along from streetlight to streetlight, linking together the lights of the streets like the lines of a constellation.
I don’t stop or turn back, intent on linking together the lights of the streets like the lines of a constellation.
Even if I look back, there’s nothing there. The memories are only pretty things, nothing more. I’ll continue this detour until the day comes where it saves me,
To become who I am now to defeat my past, to become who I’ll be tomorrow to defeat the present.
Did I survive or was I left behind? Regardless, I won’t forget the faces of those who have gone before me.
Thank you, goodbye. I’ve thrown away yesterday, and I’m walking through Gotanda in the night with the cherry blossoms scattered about.
People disappear from the streets one by one; no one will come to greet me at the station at sunset.
I have no bravery, ambition, or aspirations. I’m still living despite that, so what does that make me?
I drag my feet along from streetlight to streetlight, linking together the lights of the streets like the lines of a constellation.
I don’t stop or turn back, intent on linking together the lights of the streets like the lines of a constellation.