We stopped just a moment after beauty
was drowned into the masses.
We came here just after humanity
got clothes but got bored of them.
Our nights busy themselves,
we no longer know where they lead us.
Maybe northwards,
(to) the light of an aurora borealis.
Tell me, should we get off the ark
while the world is riding
a high speed lane
ceaselessly?
Tell me, what kind of track will we leave?
Just a mark on the ice,
while the cold hurts us
ceaselessly.
We dressed in the cloth of modernity.
Were we lucky?
Burned up forests ending up as bits of paper
to write about wandering.
Our days get torn between truth and desire,
blinded amidst
flakes of hope in my eyes.
Tell me, should we get off the ark
while the world is riding
a high speed lane
ceaselessly?
Tell me, what kind of track will we leave?
Just a mark on the ice,
while the cold hurts us
ceaselessly.
Our nights busy themselves,
we no longer know where they lead us.
Our lives, our lives chain us
to the altar of days of suffering.
And I look in vain for a direction1
And I look in vain for a direction,
(for) the light of an aurora borealis.
Light of a boreal dawn2.
Light of a boreal dawn.
Tell me, should we get off the ark
while the world is riding
a high speed lane
ceaselessly?
Tell me, what kind of track will we leave?
Just a mark on the ice,
while the cold hurts us
ceaselessly.
1. the French plays on the expression "perdre le nord" (be at sea), saying "I'm looking for the north"2. literal meaning of "aurore boréale" (northern lights)