くじらの骨 [kujira noa hone] [English translation]

You rolled, pure white, off my hand.

A long time ago we had come here.

Grey sand was coiling in the wind, but

A long time ago I noticed where it all was going *

A sandy beach and train tracks,

The train running over the ocean is heading for the terminal station.

The unwilling, yellow sun is sinking.

I'll make a blanket that mystifies the cold from lined up words, and give it

To you, while you seem to be sleeping on your notebook.

I tried searching for, and gathering up the whale bones, but

It became bothersome, and I gave them all to you.

Because you could, you put them back together for me, but

A malicious wind blew through the whale

It's become cold.

I'll end it today, too

The swaying lamp in the train window still desires to puzzle me,

Because it was happy, fun, hard, and vexing.

The loneliness that had encircled those feelings

Is no longer hunting us, right?

A sandy beach and train tracks,

The train running over the ocean is the out-of-service train.

The self-assertive sun has risen.

To you, who wanted to be a whale and pulled my hand,

I want to give everything

But instead, it would be nice if I could become small and white, and return here