FLEUR
 
yuuyake no sora ni ukanda ano kumo no sukima kara
kiseki no hikari ga nobitekite
suikomareteiku sugata ni mitorete
mou todokanai yo FURU-RU
mezamete sama you mabushii hikari ni tsutsumarete
kotori no sasayaki ni mi wo makasete
fukaku kizutsuketa koto mo nani mo kizukazu
kumo no naka de hana wo saka seteta
demo SEPIA ni somaru kioku wa
mugon no sora wo zutto utsushiteita
ima goro kizuku ano hito no kimochi ni
hakanasa wo daite
kokoro no sora wo yuuyake ga itai hodo kogasu yo
anata no nozonda
"shisen ga kasanari au atari mae no shiawase" wo
sukoshi demo agerereba yokatta
mou ososugita
(ah) hontou wa ima goro kono basho de
te wo tori atte tori sou
mou modore nai no?
sure chigai no ano asa ni
anata no egaku yuuyake ga itai hodo tsutaeru
kizutsuketa kioku wo
wasure you to shite mo omoeba omou hodo tsunoru
koukai wo semete
dekiru koto nara ima sugu ni mo anata ni FURU-RU
(en fleur...en fleur...)
mou kareteshimatta hana wo kakaete haikei ga boku wo someteku
SEPIA ni somatta kako

 

* romanization by inertia

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Fleur

translated by Tyran Grillo
 
 
From a gap in the clouds floating in the sunset-colored sky,
a wonderous light was stretching towards me.
A figure could be seen inhaling the air,
not yet noticing the flower.
Like one who had been awakened to reality, the figure was concealed in a
blinding light.
The figure left her body to a small bird's whisper.
She could not feel that she had been wounded deeply.
Flowers bloomed within the clouds,
but a memory, tinted in sepia,
was reflecting the silent sky all the while.
At about this time,
I embraced the fragility within her emotions.
I had an even more painful longing for the colors of the sky.
It was your desire.
You were happy before your vision became tainted with wounds.
It was okay to give just a little,
but it was still too late.
It was truly at this time and place
that I took your hand and drew you near me.
We still cannot go back to that moment?
That morning is so far away.
The sunset colors that you painted are even
more painful to convey.
It is also more painful to try and forget
those wounded memories than it is to gather them.
If there is anything that I can do now,
then I will give you that flower.
(in the flower...in the flower...)
I will hold this withered flower, and color myself with it.
A sepia-colored past...
 

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