Give me a turtle larger than the sky,
A slice of pure stellar bread,
Give me the evening smell of clovers,
Give me all of this to remember what hasn’t come true.
Give me a silent bell,
The mystery of acicular moon crown,
Give me piercing northern wind,
Give me all of this to remember what hasn’t come true.
Give me…
Give me…
Give me to remember what hasn’t come true…
I’ll give you mist over the stream,
A pine’s shadow, standing alone,
Three nodes on the thread of superstition,
I’ll give you all of this to remember what hasn’t come true.
On the spring river, there are ice floes floating by,
Like white bear backs,
The sun is hiding in the gully behind willows,
This is it, so where are the memories of what hasn’t come true?
Give me…
Give me…
Give me to remember what hasn’t come true…
Give me…
Give me…
Give me to remember what hasn’t come true…
What hasn’t come true…
Hasn’t come true…
Hasn’t come true…
Hasn’t come true…