Romaji — Shi no kokken, sei no hakken hakka-iro no houseki wo toji-kometa mitai na hitomi de toraeru sekai wa donna katachi? kakuu no monogatari wa itsudatte anata no soba ni nemuri nagara shi wo kataru, kuro no seirei
hari-iro ni yasashiku sunda soumei na hitomi de toraeru sekai wa donna katachi? hajimari no uta wa ikusen no seiku wo haramu nemuri nagara sei wo toku, shiro no seirei
gensou no suujiku wa setsuna oto mo naku hamon tomonai-hizumu tsumugu no wa toumei na serenade
tsunaida futatsu no te no you ni karami-au unmei no rasen kagami no mukou-gawa de kagi wo kasanetara owari no saki ga mieru no kamo shirenai kakageta futatsu no te no you ni motome-au yuukyuu no rasen kyoshoku no tsuki wa kageri yagate shuuen wo tsugeru shiro to kuro no kaikisen
gensou no suujiku wa itsuka ikue ni mo awaku kasanari-tsumoru egaku no wa sousei no serenade
tsunaida futatsu no te no you ni karami-au unmei no rasen kagami no mukou-gawa de kagi wo kasanetara owari no saki ga mieru no kamo shirenai kakageta futatsu no te no you ni motome-au yuukyuu no rasen kyoshoku no tsuki wa kageri yagate shuuen wo tsugeru shiro to kuro no kaikisen
“ebony wa shi no rasen wo egaki” ‘ivory wa sei no rasen wo egaku’ ”ikusen no yoru wo koete, melody wa yasashiku furi-tsumoru” ’inochi no ritsudou wo kanade, sotto sasayaku you ni’ ”soshite, hizumi wa yagate sora e to itari…” 05. Black keys of death, white keys of life
How do your seemingly locked eyes, jewels the colour of mint, perceive the world? Fanciful stories are always by your side, black spirit; you who speak of death as you sleep.
How do your clear eyes, gentle and clear and the colour of quartz, perceive the world? Your songs have conceived countless scriptures since the beginning of the world, white spirit; you who preach life as you sleep.
The pivots of illusions are momentary. They ripple soundlessly, distorting. What they weave together is a clear serenade.
The spirals of fate are entwined like held hands. If they collect the keys from beyond the mirror they might be able to see how everything will end. The spirals of eternity that seek to meet are like held-out hands. The posing moon darkens, signaling impending demise. Black and white, they are the tropics.
The pivots of illusions will someday, repeatedly, faintly overlap. What they’ll depict is a serenade of disaster.
The spirals of fate are entwined like held hands. If they collect the keys from beyond the mirror they might be able to see how everything will end. The spirals of eternity that seek to meet are like held-out hands. The posing moon darkens, signaling impending demise. Black and white, they are the tropics.
“Ebony depicts the spirals of death” ‘Ivory depicts the spirals of life’ “Passing countless nights, the gentleness of their melodies increased.” ‘The rhythm of life played like a soft whisper’ “And eventually, the strain reached the sky…”