曇天 [Donten] [English translation]

In any case, our ordinary days were stolen from us.

The futures we had drawn cracked. And this is a fragment of that.

The abuse and irritation of venting our angers are the fosters of self-loathing.

As far as jumping at shadows is concerned, the yin in our hearts is our holy kingdom.

Caring for nothing but the weather forecast, looking down at his phone,

today, same as usual, the sun looks faint in the thin clouds.

Sunlight deficiency, Reiwa Year 2 of long rains, summer uneasiness.

The words of the poems I weave somehow have moisture living in them too.

A heart that hurts for people who wanted to have it with them.

But it's a sympathy I don't have the leeway to give to rumors anymore.

The human greed of wanting to know is endless.

At times, it's vulgar. It's a punishment for spitting on that attraction in defiance.

Even tragedies are circled by numbers and fiscal calculations.

Popularity contests are fine but what of the feelings of the ignored at the bottom?

That's why I can't nod in agreement. Is it true that thinking you'll have made it if it sells was a value

that, in the end, wagged its tail before fascism?

If possible, I want to be as far away from that sort of commotion as possible.

It might be a small happiness, but it's because it's pure that it's so stupidly big.

Guys who don't get it are fine not getting it.

This is a work versified by telepathy noticed only by those who were meant to understand.

In our ordinary days different than the yesterdays up until now, I'm going this way and that.

Like a stray dog, "God, Buddha," that phrase.

Is this the end? Station front, the shuttered down stores have increased again.

A messiah swindled us as much as possible, bestowing nothing.

I see, you're going then? The ups and downs of this town.

I know your reason so I am without stopping you.

Don't say "see you later," while knowing that later will never come.

Don't force yourself to laugh, the parting is a quick healing scab.

What if tomorrow I got in an accident? What if tomorrow my company goes down under?

What if tomorrow the one I love dies?

What if tomorrow a pandemic spreads? What if tomorrow a disaster happens?

You, who have seen countless of those "No way's" these few years, with a bouquet in hand.

The reason you shouldn't make light of the weak and of minorities is because

it could be your silhouette there tomorrow.

Will you sound them today-- music and words of little importance?

At present, I'm devoted to fastening myself to prayer.

A depressive fog that clears away intoxication. If possible, I'd like to share it with my friends too.

The anguish they must be in.

A report of the situation in which the upsurge of a future that creates today's labor creates today's depression.

In the end, it's creative work that sustains my suspicious tendencies. It's mere mediocrity, but even so it's music.

Beyond the beginning, taken away by the music, you grow distant.

The exhaustion tells it. But it's at this very moment that you have business here.

Cloudy again today? Better than rain, so journey now.

I leave the rest to you. Until you are at the place that I couldn't go today.

And again, I descend the stairs a step at a time, only the discord in my heart echoing in the darkness.

Today again, I will rendezvous there with another me.

In the idea that we'll keep watch together, stillness always nestles in close.

It strongly resembled the light. The spitting image of warmth.

Easily mistaken for spring sunbeams. The infant still unnamed

looked like my grandfather. I rose within a knot of life and death.

I was named before I named it.

Rage, suffering, even sorrow won't disappear anyway.

On this new day, I won't pursue perfection any longer.

It makes me want to try living even if I know it.

I've learned that there is happiness, so shall we walk?

Today's cloudy again. Doesn't look like it'll rain. I peek through the car window.

Let's play today, at a park where people are sparse.

"It's hot so you don't have to wear your mask."

That future where I can say that without unease is still a ways off, huh?

I'll jot it down so I won't forget-- what we did today.

If it's a nightmare where the credits aren't rolling yet, let's take up a pen.

It's because the sky is like this that it befits this miserable Reiwa.

On this bustling street, a menacingly cloudy life.