I will sing for the last time
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This red afterimage is the romance of departure
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The book that repeatedly records our rebirth has finally come to an end
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When I woke up, there was a thin layer of ice
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And I was standing barefoot on it, looking for your hand
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I was asked to continue sitting on that chair; it was a promise I should go along with
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Within the short interval of the romantic moment of your departure
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Even if I'm the fountainhead of the linden tree
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You don't have to sing for anyone's sake anymore
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The flowers I knew so well chose only those beautiful words for me
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A rusty story I could't bring myself to sing so I hid behind my coat
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Even so, in exchange, I let myself go many times over
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However in life, there is always an "and yet" who follows along
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I confess to you in the romantic glow of a sunset
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We talked together under the heat of a candle in the middle
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This last song is my wish for my burden in that world
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We will live with this frustration from now on
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On the corner of the book, there is a scribble out of my heart that needs to be done yet I still haven't set my feet at the entrance
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I confess in the romantic moment of your departure
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Your mission was guided by love
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Becoming the shoulders the flying birds used to come down to talk
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The two of us will live with fleeting tranquility from now on
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