Verse 1
A trio of radio towers
A cluster of tombstones that smell of goosegrass
A public bathroom of which I only discovered the fuselage
Let’s collect tree leaves in the wildflower garden
An old apartment of reinforced concrete (The youngster I went out with back in the day lived there) (I still didn’t know anything at that time)
A small church
The gravesite of a military commander
Let’s pass through the valley to get to school
The park where I was able to hang my neck
The bicycle corps are on the verge of insanity
(I stole pencils from that youngster) who I loved
The elementary school students swarming the TV reporter
Twilight (the houses are like dice)
It’s cold riding down my bicycle down the hill in October
My big bro was badly injured (What needle did they use to stitch him up?)
I was run over by a bicycle but went to my friend’s house anyways
Angry bellowing
The famous bridge at a place for spirits
I haven’t met any ghosts before
The white skin of a snake
A fox is making his way down the street
A double rainbow
My friend’s house that burned down
The distant statue of Buddha
A container port
A convenience store next to the small shrine
And many festivals
I sit down alone and watch the festival
I sit down alone and watch the festival
Verse 2
Dreaming up a wind that will blow to my relatives
This motorized society is leaving a trail of tobacco smoke, immortalizing it in wood carvings
When I open the window, no grating music comes in
Gazing at the sakura blossoms, I put on a blank face
Once I must have worn
cheeks softly glowing with a blush that wouldn’t disappear
The smell of new buildings
The sound of someone going up a staircase
It still wasn’t all that scary
It’ll be soon, not much longer now
I perk up my ears, listening intently as I lie in my futon
The young child who played the part of Joseph
rings the bell on top of the small church, with lots of other children
In the same instant, at a distant Buddhist temple, the bell is ringing, too
Could that have been / night’s sign?
In that city in daytime, profound memories don’t exist
Saying “I don’t have any memories”—
I’m certainly going to put an end to that at once
I’ll brush away the dust of those memories you had tried not to think about
There must not be any any vehement feelings left there anyways
Making my backpack into snowshoes and tramping on down with them
Inquiring that youngster as to the latest trends
Frantically suppressing the nausea that comes after running
Checking tomorrow’s weather with the transmission tower
The bicycle corps that went insane are climbing the hill
The exhibitionist throws open his coat
The scenery, which looks like it’s covered in a green finish, and
the snow
The big tree in that big parking lot was cut down
I sit on the stump and simply keep on telling the story
That time was eternity itself
Even now / I’m still able to talk with that guy / any time
And that makes me very happy
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