The old street stretches onward,
The windshield wipers were letting the rain escape,
To your profile that I’m so accustomed to seeing,
Why, I wonder, are the shadows hanging?

If I sit in my room, where the lamp lies fallen,
the shadows will disappear,
Even though the only thing I can see through my window is this,
things like dreams and hopes, I’ve taken them on,
And you know, the love, the tears, still remain,
They weren’t there yesterday, but if you’re here…

The wet street doesn’t continue,
The windshield wipers block the view, don’t they?
Even if it becomes tomorrow, nothing will change,
However, tomorrow will surely come,

I’ll try putting back the light little by little,
Closing my eyes, there won’t be any shadows,
Afterward, I think about gentle things:
the sky, the night, the beach, and you,
And you know, the love, the tears, still remain,
Things like dreams and hopes, I’ll always have them,

Just laughing in the dissolving wind,
Entrusting myself to the long river,
The only thing I can see when I wake up is this,
the sun, white clouds, and you

The sky, the beach, the stars, and you
I’m very concerned,
about you…