口袋的溫度 [Kǒu dài de wēn dù] [English translation]

The flashy city burns with a light that hurts the eyes.

An iceberg made of cement, steel, and glass.

The expressionless people come from all directions,

Each with their own worries,

Walking towards their own destinations.

Coldness is a necessary armor on the iceberg,

Just in case we’re hit with something else.

Our hearts all hold passionate emotions

That we want to share with someone else.

Thinking too much leaves us nothing in the end.

Put your hand into my pocket,

And you will find the love that I cannot say.

Whatever I’ve hidden beneath my silence,

You’ll be able to feel it.

I put my hand into your pocket,

And you too have pains that you want to hide.

No matter what is hidden behind your smile, I will carry it with you.

Put your hand into my pocket,

And you will find the love

That I can't say.

Whatever I’ve hidden beneath my silence,

You’ll be able to feel it.

I put my hand into your pocket,

And you too have pains that you want to hide.

No matter what is hidden behind your smile, I will carry it with you.

Who can live a life without disappointments and regrets?

Not needing any warmth for company?

Come in, this lonely, hesitant, hurt palm.

The warmth of the pocket is a patch of soil where love will grow.