amazarashi - Haruki on the Road (ハルキオンザロード) dalszöveg fordítás angol nyelvre

amazarashi - Haruki on the Road ハルキオンザロード

Versions: #2
Our parting was decided from the start.
 
I almost want to carve those few years we spent onto a tombstone.
 
The both of us, huddled together in a pick-up trailer, the sounds of insects seeping into our nights sweats, like a vacuum-sealed freeze-frame of summer.
 
But since Haruki was really bad at living life, just like a children's game of catch, it all went in an absolutely clumsy trajectory.
 
Yeah, yeah. And her body whice shen tossed aside came crashing down on a certain summer's night.
 
She lived life with a face that always said, ''This is home''.
 
A trackless path. An unworn path.
 
She didn't pursue any course, but she sketched one out instead.
 
But the world is still too big to confirmed to an empty notebook.
 
She got on board the train called ''living'', she drove right by the passing silhouette of time.
 
And the one she was sharing a seat with was sadness.
 
But she only realized that after the fact.
 
We scattered the nights away, we scattered the summer away, and a new dawn shines so unapologetically upon them.
 
At the afterparty of a live show, caught in a fight with angry drunks, we ran away as fast as we could, and we took a piss on their van.
 
Beautiful memories are always at night: the glowing billboards an the moonlight, and just the two of us, like etchings carved in stone.
 
If we could fly just by imagining, it wouldn't be the ends of space, but inside of me, where we would dig up the sceneries we want to see again.
 
We'd be digging them up like we were grave robbers.
 
And it would get us dirtier than you could dream of, like splattears of paint on work clothes.
 
But I guess romaticists are always caked in mud.
 
If we piled those vistas up, then the amount we'd pile up would be so heavy that we probably couldn't even move them.
 
Everything in the world is junk.
 
It's flashy junk, and nothing else.
 
Stupidly loud music, careless intoxication - the real truth in the world is those moments where the music pauses.
 
The girl I loved was like a drop of water in a desert, but in time she too sizzled and dried up.
 
We scattered the nights away, we scattered the summer away, and a new dawn shines so unapologetically upon them.
 
Those nights when we laughed wildly are still ringing in my ears, and now, on sleepless nights, they cut into me like a knife.
 
A river stretches out between us: a river by the name of ''time''.
 
What we called ''youth'' is just a dried-out husk: I changed the same way you did.
 
Our parting was decided from the start.
 
And just like the brightest star in the sky, we burnt out just as fast.
 
Haruki, from my point of view, you're tumor: an incurable impetus to venture into the unknown.
 
Like insects, drawn toward the brightest light they see, where are we supposed to go when we're in broad daylight?
 
The times change, other people change, and even now, then dawn shines so unapologetically.
 


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