With only monochrome breath,
You still can’t see color;
With nothing but a scattered image,
You gather it aimlessly.

The sound of an unmoving clock…
Shadows of white darkness…
In a listless voice,
You sing…
(With window-side sentimentality)

You want to try putting to words,
Only the things you’re reluctant to –
It will become a song in the form of water,
Flowing transparently.

The rhythm of night sways your heart;
Having nothing but problems with no solution, you start to cry.
A page with still nothing but white burns your eyes…
Unable to sleep, you wish for someone to play with.

With nothing to shave off,
And having spoken slovenly for too long,
Where is the song that strikes up desire,
Belonging to you alone?

The wind through the window brushes your cheeks –
Unable to sleep, you wish for someone to play with.

A vaguely shining music note brushes your hand –
You wish to play with the unsleeping sounds.

モノクロの吐息だけで
色はまだ見えない
散り散りのイメージだけ
あてどなく集めて

動かない時計の音
白い闇の影
気怠い声
君は歌う
(窓辺の感傷で)

言葉にしたくないものだけ
言葉にしてみたい
水のかたちの歌になって
透明に流れる

夜のリズムが君の胸を揺らす
埒も無い事だけで泣けて来る
まだ白いだけの頁が目を焼いた
眠れなくて誰かと遊びたい

削ぎ落とすモノも無くて
しどけなく語りすぎて
欲望の騒ぎ立てる
君だけの歌は何処に

窓からの風が君の頬に触れた
眠れなくて誰かと遊びたい

曖昧に光る音符が手に触れた
眠らない音たちと遊びたい