Light pink, a floral scene-spring when I first learned what loneliness is.
The fleeting petals scatter away,
Brushed by the fingertips of the wind.
Waves that seem so quiet,
The summer sun too dazzling-
On the shore of my heart,
They broke apart in white foam.
At the end of passing seasons,
Who is the person standing still?
With trembling feelings,
I held myself tight, all alone.
What kind of day will tomorrow be?
From the window where I rest my cheek on my hand,
I'll go to find that formless dream, surely.
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Walking through the streets as they change color,
In autumn, I long to meet someone.
The gentle sadness of evening-
It feels like I could become kind.
The powdered snow melting in my frozen palm
Looked so much like tears,
As I met warmth in winter.
They say the person searching for happiness
Is the happiest of all.
As the turning seasons
Change our moments into memories-together.
What kind of wind will blow tomorrow?
From the window where I begin to walk,
Let's cross over the dream that will soon come into view.