The ship veiled in the shining sea leaves a whistle of the good-bye.
Will I meet the wind of summer color if I go down the gentle slope?
My love, it's a melody. I sing highly and low.
My love, it's a gull. I fly highly and low.
Will I meet tender you if I call for you in the setting sun?


The sound of the piano somebody plays sounds like sea rumble.
Do people coming and going in the late afternoon carry the dream of summer color?
My love, it's a diary. I spell a daily page.
My love, it's a boat. I go the sea of sky.
Will you look for me if I look back in the setting sun?


Trees shaking in a promenade cast a good-bye shadow.
Can the weathercock of an old chapel see the town of summer color?
The yesterday love, it's tears. It dries before long and disappears.
The tomorrow love, it's a refrain. Words without the end.
Will you hug me if I meet you in the setting sun?