If it were someone somewhere,
They must have forgotten even their memories.
If they were just passing by,
They must have stayed without exchanging promises.

With the half-written words,
Being sucked into the night,
The crescent moon, losing its place,
From beyond the thin door,
Called out to a distant, distant you,
With an unchanged voice, with unchanged eyes.

Ah, because it's nothing at all,
Because it's not smooth,
Now, even these spilled droplets,
While telling myself,
I paddle towards a secret tomorrow,
Just a little, just a little, is it okay?

[Full Version Continues]

If there were a gaze that seemed different somewhere,
If it were a gentle lie,
In a far-off ancient time when there was nothing,
I could have remained as a completely blank me.

With the days stored in the pen tip,
And the traces that blur unnoticed,
The two characters I erase over and over again,
Between a slight hope
And wavering in the midst of resignation, at dawn,
Don't tell me what lies beyond yet.

From the deep, deep bottom of the water,
Gazing at nameless droplets,
There, dissolved, is a faint hope,
While swimming around, elsewhere, elsewhere,
The shining scales and shimmering water surface,
As an unforgettable echo I don't want to forget,
Sleep in the days without coordinates,
In waves, endlessly pushing forward,
As if not swallowed up,
A hidden secret
Will someday drift
Into your embrace, I wonder?

(Allow me to see occasionally,)
As long as this time changes,
(A beautiful dream,)
As long as this poem doesn't disappear,

Ah, because it's nothing at all,
Because it's not smooth...

Ah, because it's nothing at all,
Because it's not smooth,
Now, even these spilled droplets,
While telling myself,
I paddle towards a secret tomorrow,
Just a little, just a little, is it okay?