The dry wintry wind breezes through,
and the dry tree leaves flutter along.
As they await the day of their union,
they walk along, counting the time they have.
Colored by composed lines,
I dance instantly as I become crimson and excited.
A piece of red leaf slips past my palm,
and tells a story...
Having bid goodbye to their scorched hometown,
they run along, led by the leaf's hand.
Things such as uneasiness about the invisible future,
or even the leisure to feel uneasy, they have none.
The dry tree leaves flutter along,
as the dry wintry wind breezes through.
Not letting go of their held hands,
they fly along, counting the time they have.
Carrying on your back lives of people of this world,
what kind of yarn are you spinning with those small hands?
Even with just one tiny little seam,
this world could end just because of that.
Pursuing only the road you believe in,
as you continue walking, I want to be able to support you.
Carrying a red sword,
let me follow you together with the leaves, in the wind.
To become the rustling wind,
to become the solace for many,
we want to become the tailwind for the people
who are doing their best to live in this world.
Decorated in crimson and gold,
cutting through the swaying trees,
accompanied by the dry leaves,
the pair of wintry winds race away with the leaves.
Together with the loudly rustling leaves,
soaring together with a gust of wind,
straight ahead without stopping,
the pair of wintry winds race away with a barren song.