I've been searching for the evidence of my existence in this place.
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Finally I've realized that it's been inside my right pocket all along.
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Today's sky looks especially blue since it's completely cleared up,
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as though it's made the entire world translucent.
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Both for me, who believe it cannot be found and am giving up,
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and for you, who comfort me by saying that it can be found,
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the meaning of life does not change or vary.
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If this melody, on the brink of dissipating,
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could weave out just one unwavering timbre/memory,
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then it will no longer matter if everything I've come to believe in
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should turn out to be false.
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Even if evidence of my non-existence in this place were thrust before me,
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it has always been inside my right pocket.
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Today's town looks especially dark and sluggish,
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as though it's painted the entire world over with its color.
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Both for me, who apologized, ran off, and hurt you,
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and for you, who thanked me, smiled, and accepted me,
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the meaning of life does not change or vary.
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In this world on the brink of crumbling,
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if I could seek out just one sure answer,
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then even I, having gone through so much in the past,
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will surely be able to begin forgiving others with smiles.
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Words cannot fully convey what I want to express.
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The evidence of our existence in this very place,
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within this world that has started to fall apart,
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just how much singing voice can it deliver?
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If this melody, on the brink of dissipating,
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could weave out just one unwavering timbre/memory,
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then it will no longer matter if everything I've come to believe in
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should turn out to be false.
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