amazarashi - Poruno eiga no kanban no shita de (ポルノ映画の看板の下で) dalszöveg fordítás angol nyelvre

amazarashi『ポルノ映画の看板の下で』|| Poruno eiga no kanban no shitade

Versions: #2
''Underneath the billboard of a pornographic movie''
 
The shadow of an old apartment complex stretches out, and it engulfs an abandoned bed of flowers,
 
full of grave markers written in pen by children.
 
The flowers, in their windswept uncertainty, refuse to bloom.
 
Vagrant crows splash around in the water - in the parking lot of a taxi company.
 
A rusted fence decays along the roadside, almost like this city's laceration scars.
 
Almost like this city's laceration scars.
 
I often say, ''It's too painful, it's too painful'', but there's no time I've ever died from the anguish.
 
This feeling of loneliness is just the perfect amount Almost every day it's just the perfect amount.
 
That's why I dress myself in it, like the jester of a play set in the night sky.
 
Is what's falling stardust, or is it trash?
 
Either way, it's nothing more than rubbish.
 
If going on living is such a bother, then dying once and for all is also a bother.
 
And making these songs is also a bother.
 
All around the world, everything is just a bother.
 
Underneath the billboard of a pornographic movie, a young woman is always waiting for someone.
 
And if she wears her careless ''everyday'' in place of a scarf, her frozen, numb future still won't warm up, and whatever she calls ''dreams'' are just vain idols.
 
But those are the kinds of idols I worship, like an angel fallen from grace. (basically, a person without virtue)
 
''If you wish for something, it will come true! It will come true! It will come true!'' -
 
That's what my guardian angel keeps nagging, but it doesn't do me any good.
 
''The cherry blossoms scatter away, and that's what makes them beautiful''- almost as if they're trying to liken it to human life.
 
If that's just run-of-the-mill romanticism - then it's something I used to hold on to, too.
 
When the flowers scatter away, it brings me to tears.
 
When the flowers bloom, it brings me to tears.
 
Even the end of a long day brings me to tears.
 
And it doesn't make a difference when I point out how depressing that is.
 
If thinking optimistically is such a bother, then thinking pessimistically is a bother too.
 
And falling asleep is a bother too.
 
Each and every little thing is just a bother.
 
Underneath the billboard of a pornographic movie, a young woman is always waiting for someone.
 
Even if she wears these carefree memories as earings, those expressionless days will do nothing but abandon her.
 
If dreams themselves are our last salvation, then I'll go around preaching that like a megalomaniac.
 
''If you wish for something, it will come true! It will come true! It will come true!'' -
 
That's what my guardian angel keeps nagging, me, but it doesn't do me any good.
 
Derisions, like insects, swarm around a town lamp-post, its light of hope flickers on and disappears, and each and every face tries to float up into the light.
 
Even if light were like an unwavering lantern, you can't trust your own speculations - that is to say your resignation.
 
The red color of blood that spills at the brink of surrender - is the red of the evening sky back home, the red certain death in the face of flames.
 
It all flows with so much anguish.
 
And mere time slips away.
 
Is there a sort of empty despair in that?
 
Is there any place to start anew in that?
 
Urderneath the billboard of pornographic movie, a young woman is always waiting for someone.
 
Even if she decorates her flowerpots with her carefree hopes, these dreary days will remain bland and dull, and if dreams themselves are struggle of humankind, then all of our sympathizers will go around preaching that.
 
''If you wish something, it will come true! It will come true! It will come true!'' -
 
That's what my guardian angel keeps nagging me, but it doesn't do me any good.
 
(but it doesn't do me any good...)
 
(but it doesn't do me any good...)
 


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