I named the series of bruises on my ankles that I accumulated throughout the years “youth”.
Then, as if they were the incarnate symbol of my adversary, I stroked them as night continued to fall.
Do I feel any better now? I don’t care any more…
Without hating anything, I harbor a song in my heart.
Without wishing for too much, I harbor a song in my heart.
Then, finally, I let out a forlorn prayer,
And let fly the seeds I’d kept within as an excuse.

No matter where I go, I’m a flower
Only blooming when in doubt, I’m a flower.
Never choosing my place, I’m a flower.
Laying my roots in ideals, I’m a flower…

…an ideal that blooms after the rain departs.

過去の連なりのくるぶしに できた青痣を青春と名づけて
それをまるで仇のしるしみたいに 夜になる度撫でて
想いは晴れたか? もういいよ
何も憎まず 心に歌を
多くは望まず 心に歌を
そして 最後には頼りない祈りを
申し訳程度に宿した 種子を飛ばし

どこへ行こうが 花である
迷いにだけ咲く 花である
場所を選ばぬ 花である
理想に根をはる 花である

雨上がりに咲くideal