The sound that trembles in the wind fades away.
A white flower stands in June.
An image blurs behind my eyelids.
The past seasons have lost their boldness.
If you're going to tear it apart, take it with this body.
And accept it as fate.
In a vow to part,
You drift in that wandering.
Just living becomes someone's tomorrow.
Even if this life were to scatter away right now.
What I leave behind is surely not only sadness.
To the continuation of your footprints.
I want to weave my feelings together and show you.
A heat haze that looks toward a distant land.
The white flower returns in April.
In memories, no matter how many I hold close,
I only realize that they are someone who isn't there.
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The sorrow of those left behind.
If that is fate,
In rain that knows nothing of the sky.
The unquenchable fire of our bond.
I want to carve, somewhere, the proof that I lived.
I had been gazing toward a distant dawn.
What I wished for is surely a future in which you are smiling.
That future, like a small prayer,
For I will bind it and weave it together.
Even a single word of farewell
Is not permitted by this vow.
What I leave behind is surely not only sadness.
To the continuation of your footprints...
Just living becomes someone's tomorrow.
Even if this life were to perish now,
What I leave behind is surely not only sadness.
To the continuation of your footprints.
I want to weave my feelings together and show you.