By the side of the road the trees are dyed in the red of false ignorance,
feeling betrayed under the cold weather.
If you close your ears to the unpleasant news, you will miss the sound of the train as it leaves.
I take refuge in Amida Buddha.
In the wintry town of Asahi, my mother wore a horrified face as a bomber launched just off the peaceful nearby coast.
Our lives and fantasies are the remains of worldliness and escapism.
About seven million years ago, since the creation of mankind,
what has become of the bodies of all those who have died?
If it is the case that they are buried beneath the earth,
certainly anywhere throughout the world will be somebody else's graveyard.
It might not be a pleasant story but it truly saved me,
both skyscrapers and apartment buildings resemble gravestones.
Won't you take apart my depression, sadness and memories?
Though it may not be pretty, the tiny flower bloomed.
It only affirms your awkwardness.
Live like you don't have a choice and don't let yourself be named.
The trash thrown out, those who wound up dying in mourn,
the dreams of someone that never came true,
Each and all inexorably return to the earth they belong to.
And flowers will bloom atop their corpses.
The town strove to expel out the night,
and so under the night sky with grandiose clamor flames roared.
By the lit windows, the street lamps, and the city lights' grace, the town has finally conquered its loneliness.
Why do I feel so much lonelier now than when I wander through the countryside alone at night?
When I compare other's lives to my own, my happiness was undoubtedly uncertain.
Though it may not be pretty, if fake friends can make you laugh,
It only affirms my own failures.
On paths not chosen, there is no shame or honor.
That person you held tight, the sneers carried by the wind,
your victories that went by without praise.
Each and all inexorably return to the earth they belong to.
And flowers will bloom atop their corpses.
Even if people thrive in what was once a battlefield,
even if flowers are offered at the scene of a tragedy,
Even if in a lost town countless trees take root,
even if my late grandfather's offerings are swarmed by insects,
Laugh even when your life is full of emptiness.
Sing even when farewells only last but a moment.
On nights when you weep over the rotting life you embrace,
and in all you experience on this earth, offer a eulogy to life.
Though it may not be pretty, if life can make you laugh today,
It only affirms mankind's arrogance.
Live like you're running away from your inevitable fate.
These days we made each other laugh, the pain of days we got rid of,
and human life which can be cut off one way or another,
Each and all inexorably return to the earth they belong to.
And flowers will bloom atop their corpses.
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