夕立旅立ち [Yūdachi, tabidachi] [English translation]

Even in this town where nothing good ever happened,

it still feels a little lonesome to depart.

The distant smell of winter daphne's sees me off as I go.

To my friends: see you soon.

To my lovers: farewell.

In the evening rain, a voyage.

Ahead in the distance, a light.

I've yet to even wake up from my nostalgic dreams.

Weeping, caving in - but every time, coming back to life.

And once again, the sun shines upon a new you.

Count the houses as they pass by:

That's how many lives there are. That's how many partings there are.

Once more, I feel I've become a little bit wiser.

But if I play it like I did back then, that too will be the landscape passing by.

In the evening rain, a voyage.

Ahead in the distance, a light.

I've yet to even wake up from my nostalgic dreams.

Back then, I swore so surely that I wouldn't cry.

As I embarck, the steam whistle echoes the sound of separation.

Even in the restless life of the city, a stubborn wind is blowing:

the wind of the countryside is blowing.

And I've even forgotten the look of your face -

but I made it that way. I chose to forget it.

In the evening rain, a voyage.

Ahead in the distance, a light.

I've yet to even wake up from my nostalgic dreams.

These tricks of the eyes are fleeting.

A shadow looms over the city.

How many years have I looked in wonder at that now distant town?