Music: Itaby
Translation: tofupurin
感動していた機能美
私が春ならあなたは靡く花に朝
片思いのよう
I am moved by this functional beauty
If I am spring, then you are a bending flower to the morning
Like a one-sided, unrequited love
今
パッと君が消えたところで
この音声は流れ続ける
ただ観測できないから証明しようがない
そういう話をしよう
Now
The place where you disappeared with a pop
This sound continues to ring out
Because we cannot observe it, and therefore we cannot prove it
Let’s say things like this
今
気づいてしまったみたい
全部残せない遺せないから
カラカラ歌う!
歪んでしまって期待
早く消えて消えて消えて消えて消えて消えて…
もう聞こえていないよね
Now
It seems that you have noticed
Nothing will withstand this, nothing will be left behind
So sing! With a parched throat
Expectation gone twisted
Hurry up and disappear, disappear, disappear, disappear, disappear, disappear…
Now it cannot be heard at all, right
私は機能を必要としているけれどその逆は成立しない
人→信号機。
文化→宗教→?
神様なんていなし、私たちを必要とはしていない。
あ、すみません、これ以上は規制が◻︎◻︎◻︎◻︎◻︎◻︎◻︎
Although I am in need to functions, the opposite does not stand true
Human → traffic signal
Culture → religion → ?
There is no god, and we are not needed.
Ah, sorry, anything other than this is regulated ◻︎◻︎◻︎◻︎◻︎◻︎◻︎
ハイパーグラフィアじゃないが全部書き遺して遺体
いずれ忘れぬように!
無に帰せぬように!
This is no hypergraphia, it is a dead body writing down and leaving behind everything
To not forget this in some future day!
To not return to nothingness!
点と線で組み上げてく
AとBの中間子
カッコカッコ切り替わる未来
監視対象です
To compose together dots and lines
A meson between A and B
A bracketed, replaceable future
An object of surveillance
4Kの視界と.wavの聴感、会話.txtの総量
解像度はいくらあげたところで意味や感情はついてこないのに
鈍色の梟が頭のやさしいところで考えた
Field of vision. 4K, auditory sensation. wav, the aggregate amount of conversational. Txt
With the resolution going up, meanings and feelings fail to catch up
The dark colored owl pondered with a soft spot in its head
The world of intricate scripts will deftly grow like this
快適な位相で語っていた
その後悔も全部泡になる!
わからないけど、
Speaking from a comfortable topology
Even all the regret has turned to nothing, to foam
Even though I do not understand this,
田舎の夜切り替わる信号機
道端に転がる缶コーヒー
君の帰りを待つ改札機
(機能してる 意味はないまま)
A night in the countryside, the traffic signals switch up
A coffee can tumbled over on the roadside
A ticket gate awaiting your returned
(A functioning being, without meaning)
Although there is no one here, we grow like rubble
Now
Only, so very teasingly
Even the colors of the flowers start fading away