To Elma

8/31 “Untitled”

Stockholm, Gamla stan

The hustle and bustle falling on the cobblestone pavement

I don’t have much ink left.

I think I’ll fill this box with the songs I wrote while I was traveling and the pictures I took.
In this country, if I photograph even a single street corner, a familiar smell comes to me from
somewhere.
I’m pretty terrible at taking pictures, but I printed all the ones that weren’t blurry.
Elma, all the words and melodies in this box are yours now, so you can do whatever you like
with them. I certainly don’t need them anymore.

To the end, I stayed the same, no matter where I went.

A hideous ghost driven mad by art, selfishly putting on an attitude of pessimism, thinking only of
my work.
Yes, in the end, music, to me, was–
(Translated by EJ Translations)

3/14

When I leaned out the window to look out at the sky, it was so clear that I suddenly remembered
you and thought that I would write you a letter. Well, that was what it was at the start, but
thinking about it now, this is something like an escape. I think you know what I’m escaping from.
From society, from connections, from friends, from my job, from life…. Basically, from
everything.
Oh, right, before I get into that, I should tell you: This may surprise you, but I’ve recently learned
to do housework. That’s right, me, who couldn’t even use a washing machine before. But I
guess being a human means changing, however slowly.

It’s just like you said, Elma: A single day is far too short, but just living is too long. When I think
that the summer is ending like this, I start to feel like I won’t be able to create anything serious
even if I live to be 100. To tell you the truth, I quit the part-time job I used to have. It was at the
beginning of last August.

Elma, there must be a lot of people who never do anything with their lives. Fifty people working
hard can’t match up to ten people with talent, and no matter how much you regret it, you can’t
reverse a failure into a success–that will never change. Words are no match for bullets. They
can’t miraculously cure illness.

Still, I believed that music alone was different. Music wasn’t just art. Making things that are for
people–what could be more valuable? Which is to say, those disgusting money-worshippers are
wrong. It’s like Oscar Wilde said. Art isn’t a reflection in a cracked mirror. “Life imitates art far
more than Art imitates life.”[1]

But lately I’ve been thinking. In the end, if you don’t have a life, if you don’t have a body that can
make things, you won’t be able to create anything. No matter how I struggle against it,
everything I create draws from my heart, my way of living, my experiences–in this way, my art is
tied to my life. As if it really were a mirror.

This is really just a journal, Elma. I’m sure there should still be art inside me. It’s almost exactly
the thing that Oscar denied. That contradiction has always caused me pain. Music has become
something I can no longer enjoy.

What do you think, Elma?

Notes:

[1] From “The Decay of Lying.”

(Translated by EJ Translations)
3/21 (Deep Indigo)

変わらない風景 浅い正午
高架下、藍二乗、寝転ぶまま
白紙の人生に拍手の音が一つ鳴っている
空っぽな自分を今日も歌っていた

The scenery doesn’t change; on a faded afternoon

Under the overpass, indigo squared, while I lie down
I hear a single clap through my blank-page life
I was singing about my own empty self today as usual

変わらないように
君が主役のプロットを書くノートの中
止まったガス水道 世間もニュースも所詮他人事
この人生さえほら、インクみたいだ

So things wouldn’t change,

I wrote a story starring you in my notebook
My gas and water being cut off, society, and the news are all someone else’s problem
Even this life of mine, look, it’s like ink

あの頃ずっと頭に描いた夢も大人になるほど時効になっていく

As I grow up, the dream I had always pictured in my head during then is also approaching its
expiration

ただ、ただ雲を見上げても
視界は今日も流れるまま
遠く仰いだ夜に花泳ぐ
春と見紛うほどに
君をただ見失うように

Though I just, I just look up at the clouds

While they float through my field of vision today as usual
In the distant night sky I looked up at, flowers swim
To the point it’s mistaken for spring
As if I just lose sight of you

転ばないように下を向いた
人生はどうにも妥協で出来てる
心も運命もラブソングも人生も信じない
所詮売れないなら全部が無駄だ

I looked down so I wouldn’t trip

Life is made of nothing but compromises
I don’t believe in hearts or fate or love songs or life
After all, if it can’t sell well then it’s all pointless

わざと零した夢で描いた今に寝そべったままで時効を待っている

While lying down here in the present that I formed by shedding my dreams on purpose, I'm
waiting for my expiration

ただ、ただ目蓋の裏側
遠く描く君を見たまま
ノート、薄い夜隅に花泳ぐ
僕の目にまた一つ

Just, just on the other side of my eyelids

While I saw a distant picture of you
In my notebook, flowers swim in the corner of a faint night
Another, in my eyes

人生は妥協の連続なんだ
そんなこと疾うにわかってたんだ
エルマ、君なんだよ
君だけが僕の音楽なんだ

Life is just a series of compromises

I had gotten that long ago
Elma, it’s you
You alone are my music

この詩はあと八十字
人生の価値は、終わり方だろうから

There are eighty more characters in this song to go

Because maybe the value of life, is in the way it ends

ただ、ただ君だけを描け
視界の藍も滲んだまま
遠く仰いだ空に花泳ぐ
この目覆う藍二乗

I just, I just picture you

As even the indigo filling my field of vision is blurred
In the distant sky I looked up at, flowers swim
Indigo squared covering these eyes

ただ、ただ
遠く仰いだ空、君が涼む
ただ夜を泳ぐように

It’s just, it’s just

In the distant sky I looked up at, you’re cooling off
As if you just swim through the night

Notes:

[1] A more literal translation of the title would be “Indigo Squared.” The word for “indigo,” 藍/ai,
sounds like the number “i,”; i2 is -1. It’s also homophonous with 愛 (love) and 哀 (grief).
[2] The “look up at” in “In the distant night sky I looked up at, flowers swim” can also mean “to
look up to, to rely on, to depend on” in Japanese.
Update 10 Apr. 2019: In an interview, n-buna confirmed the i2 interpretation and said that the
title also refers to the scenery appearing doubled because the protagonist’s vision is blurred by
tears.

The flashing text in the music video:

In a single six-tatami-mat room, I write my songs. My life was just one memory after another.
Indigo-blue rainy days, feeling the cold on my back as I lie on the ground, the smell of dried-out
earth and grass, the space beneath the overpass, the sensation of asphalt against my
fingertips, the ultramarine of the sky reflected in my field of vision, the heavy, blurring deep
indigo.

Life is just one compromise after another.

In the midst of making choices one by one, there are times when I decisively made mistakes.
I'm growing up without forgetting that sensation. The sunset lost in the night is piercing the
apartment in Sekimachi.
The dried-out red color is reflected in the glass of the window.

(Translated by EJ Translations, edited by Loafer)

8/7 (August, That Place, Moonlight)

何もいらない

I don’t need anything

心臓が煩かった 歩くたび息が詰まった
初めてバイトを逃げ出した
音楽も生活も、もうどうでもよかった
ただ気に食わないものばかりが増えた

My heart became irritated; as I walked, it got hard to breathe

When I first ran away from my part-time job
I didn’t care anymore about music or life or anything
The number of things that annoyed me just kept increasing

八月某、月明かり、自転車で飛んで
東伏見の、小平、富士見通りと商店街
夜風が鼻を擽ぐった この胸の痛みは気のせいだ
わかってた わかった振りをした
On that August day, in that place, there was moonlight, I was flying on my bike
The elevated bridge at Higashifushimi, Kodaira, Fujimidoori and the shopping area
The night wind tickled my nose, and the pain in my heart wasn’t real–
I understood that; I pretended to understand that

最低だ 最低だ
僕の全部最低だ
君を形に残したかった
想い出になんてしてやるもんか

I’m the worst, I’m the worst

Everything about me is the worst
I wanted something concrete to remember you by
I don’t want to let you become just a memory!

最低だ 最低だ
気持ちよくて仕方がないわ
最低だってこの歌詞自体が

I’m the worst, I’m the worst

There’s no point to just feeling good
Because these lyrics, too, are the worst

人生、二十七で死ねるならロックンロールは僕を救った
考えるのも辞めだ！どうせ死ぬんだから
君も、何もいらない

If my life could end at twenty-seven, rock and roll saved me[2]

By saying “Stop thinking so much! You’ll die anyway”
I don’t need anything, even you

心臓が煩かった
笑うほど喉が渇いた
初めて心を売り出した
狭心もプライドも、もうどうでもよかった
気に食わない奴にも頭を下げた

My heart became irritated

I laughed until my throat went dry
The first time I sold my heart
I didn’t care anymore if it was pride or heart disease
I bowed my head even to people that annoyed me

八月某、あの頃の景色を跨いだ
ストックホルムの露天商、キルナ、ガムラスタンは石畳
君だけを胸に仕舞った
この空の青さも気の所為だ
笑ってた、笑った顔のまま

On that August day, in that place, I strode through the scenery of the past
The street vendors of Stockholm, Kiruna, the cobbled streets of Gamla stan
You were the only thing shut away inside my heart
Even the blue of the sky is just my imagination
I was smiling; my face just stayed that way

最低だ 傲慢だ 君もみんな貪欲だ

ドラマチックな歌も愛もさぁ、馬鹿らしくて仕方がないわ
知っていた 知っていた
君の人生、君のものだ
最低だっていくら叫ぼうが

I’m the worst, I’m too arrogant; you’re as greedy as anyone else
There’s no point in dramatic songs or loves, it just makes you look like a fool
I knew, I knew
Your life was your own
However much I shouted “It’s the worst”

そうだ、きっとそうだ
あの世ではロックンロールが流れてるんだ
賛美歌とか流行らない
神様がいないんだから
罪も過ちも犯罪も自殺も戦争もマイノリティも全部知らない

That’s right, of course that’s right

Rock ‘n’ roll flows through the world beyond
While hymns and stuff aren’t that popular
Because there’s no god
Sins, mistakes, crimes, suicide, wars, minorities, it’s all irrelevant

最低だ 最低だ 別れなんて傲慢だ

君の全てに頷きたいんだ
そんなの欺瞞と同じだ、エルマ

It’s the worst, it’s the worst; to leave was arrogance

I want to agree with you on everything
But that would be deceiving you, Elma

最低だ 最低だ 愛おしくて仕方がないわ

ドラマチックな夜で僕を悼みたい

It’s the worst, it’s the worst; I can’t help this affection
I want to mourn myself in the dramatic night

最低だ 最低だ 言葉なんて冗長だ

君の人生は月明かりだ
有りがちだなんて言わせるものか

It’s the worst, it’s the worst; these words are just redundant
Your life is moonlight
I could never say it was commonplace

最低だ 最低だ 笑われたって仕方がないわ

最低なんて語呂だけの歌詞だ

It’s the worst, it’s the worst; I can’t help being laughed at
These lyrics that sound nice but mean nothing are the worst

人生、二十七で死ねるならロックンロールは僕を救った
考えるのも辞めだ！どうせ死ぬんだから

If my life could end at twenty-seven, rock and roll saved me

By saying “Stop thinking so much! You’ll die anyway”

今も、愛も、過去も、夢も、思い出も、鼻歌も、薄い目も、夜霞も、
優しさも、苦しさも、花房も、憂鬱も、あの夏も、この歌も、
偽善も、夜風も、嘘も、君も、僕も、青天井も、何もいらない

The present, love, the past, dreams, memories, humming, light-colored eyes, night mist,
Tenderness, pain, flowers, melancholy, that summer, this song,
Hypocrisy, the night wind, lies, you, myself, the blue sky–I don’t need any of them

Notes:

[1] “某” can be read as “bou” or “nanigashi,” and while it’s “bou” in the lyrics themselves, n-buna
has pronounced it “nanigashi,” though he said on Twitter that he didn’t have a strong preference
between the two readings of the title. The word just means “a certain…” and usually has a noun
appended to it unless it’s referring to a person, but n-buna has stated that in this case it does
not refer to a person, but a place, and possibly also a time.

[2] A reference to the 27 Club, a term that originated in the 1970s when Jim Morrison, Janis
Joplin, Brian Jones, and Jimi Hendrix all died at the age of 27 within several years of each
other; it gained more prominence in the 1990s when Kurt Cobain also died at that age. While it’s
since expanded to include actors and other celebrities–not to mention musicians in other
genres–it’s still heavily associated with rock musicians specifically.

(Translated by EJ Translations)

4/20

I'm staying in a city called Lund.

Geographically, it's an old city, located in the southern tip of the country. Known as the city of
scholars, it's home to the country's oldest university.

The Lund Cathedral is said to be built around the 12th century. There's an old astronomical
clock there. The clock's machinery moves twice a day at certain times. Avoiding church service,
I sit somewhere, absentmindedly thinking about the lyrics that I'm going to write. You can say
this has sort of become my daily routine here in this city.

While reminiscing about the time when I was living in Sekimachi, I'm writing my lyrics.

(Translated by Night Deer Translations)

4/24 (Lyric-writing and Coffee)

最低限の生活で小さな部屋の六畳で
君と暮らせれば良かった それだけ考えていた
幸せの色は準透明 なら見えない方が良かった
何も出来ないのに今日が終わる

In my bare-minimum life, in my tiny six-tatami-mat apartment

All I could think about was that I wished I could live with you
If the color of happiness is semi-transparent, then I wish I’d never seen it
Even though I haven’t been able to do anything, today comes to an end

最低限の生活で小さな部屋の六畳で
天井を眺める毎日 何かを考えていた
幸せの価値は60000円
家賃が引かれて4000円
ぼやけた頭で想い出を漁る

In my bare-minimum life, in my tiny six-tatami-mat apartment

Every day I was staring at the ceiling thinking about something
The price of happiness is 60,000 yen
After rent I’ve only got 4,000 yen left[1]
I go scrounging in my blurred thoughts for memories

冷めた目で愛を語るようになっていた
冷めたコーヒーも相変わらずそうなんだ
嫌いだ

I’ve become able to talk about love with cold cynicism

My coffee is always cold, too
I hate it

わかんないよ わかんないよ
わかんないよ わかんないよ
想い出になる 君が邪魔になっていく
わかんないよ わかんないよ
わかんないよ わかんないよ
わかんないよ
上手な歩き方も
さよならの言い方も

I don’t get it, I don’t get it

I don’t get it, I don’t get
How you can have become a memory and keep on getting in my way
I don’t get it, I don’t get it
I don’t get it, I don’t get it
I don’t know
The right way to walk
Or how to say goodbye

最小限の音量で 少し大きくなった部屋で
止まったガスも思い出もシャワーの冷たさも書き殴った
寿命を売るなら残り二年
それだけ残してあの街へ
余った寿命で思い出を漁る

At the lowest possible volume, in my slightly bigger apartment

I scribble down lyrics about the cut-off gas, my memories, and how cold the shower is
If I’m selling my lifespan, I only have two years left
If that’s all that’s left, I’d like to go to that town
And spend my remaining life scrounging for memories
晴れも夜祭りも関町の街灯も
雲も逃げ水も斜に構えた歌詞観も
詭弁だ

Sunny days and night festivals and the streetlights of Sekimachi

And clouds and mirages and the cynical outlook of my lyrics–
They’re all sophistry

わかんないよ わかんないよ
わかんないよ わかんないよ
想い出になる 君が詩に成っていく
わかんないよ わかんないよ
わかんないよ わかんないよ
わかんないよ、忘れられる方法も
これからの使い方も

I don’t get it, I don’t get it

I don’t get it, I don’t get
How you can have become a memory and keep on showing up in my songs
I don’t get it, I don’t get it
I don’t get it, I don’t get it
I don’t get how things get forgotten
Or know how to use my time from now on

冷めた目の中で君の詩を書いていた
僕のこの日々は君の為の人生だ

With my cold, cynical eyes, I was writing a song about you

I’m living my days now for your sake

夢も儚さも君の口も目もその指先も忘れながら
ほら、そろそろ詩も終わる時間だ

As I’m forgetting my dreams and how ephemeral things are and your mouth and eyes and
fingertips
Look, soon it’ll be time for my songs to come to an end

やっと君の番だからさ

Because it’s finally your turn now

わかんないよ わかんないよ
わかんないよ わかんないよ
想い出になれ 君よ詩に成って往け
わかんないよ わかんないよ
わかんないよ わかんないよ
わかんないね
人は歩けるんだとか
それが当たり前だとかわかんないさ
わかんないよ

I don’t get it, I don’t get it

I don’t get it, I don’t get it
You must become a memory, become a song
I don’t get it, I don’t get it
I don’t get it, I don’t get it
I don’t get, you know,
How it is that people can keep walking
Or how they can act like it’s the most natural thing in the world
I don’t get it at all

Notes

[1] Roughly US$550 and US$35, respectively.

(Translated by EJ Translations)

7/13 (Untitled)

Visby
The road stretching out to the north outside of Almedalen
From the bench under the shadow of the tree
facing the wall that circles the coastline

I'm at the island next to Gotland called Fårö.

At the northern edge of the island, there's a limestone that has turned into a strange shape after
being scraped by the sea for years. It became an object of art, enshrined by the coast.

About the song called Parade

No one can see it, but everyone has it.
No one has ever seen it, but it appears when we speak.
Depending on the mood, it can become either warm or cold.
Then, it goes through the heart, climbs up from the lung,
Passes the trachea, then falls from the mouth.
I'm talking about voice.
The heart resides in that very vibration of air.

About gods.

Gods make their home inside excellent works of art.

Every time someone makes a work of art, an illusion conjures up; they feel as if they're being
moved by something unseen.
Perhaps, the brush is just being moved by emotions or sentiments such as feelings of
emptiness, sadness or happiness.

But to me, gods are behind that.

From the heart, it goes through the fingertips, then it goes down into this rectangle-shaped
paper.
I personally like that exact moment.
I'm sure you must think that way too.

The only thing you must not misunderstand is this: Gods make their home in works of art, they
don't reside in us humans.
It's arrogant of the artist to think like that.
I'm saying this because I'm imitating Oscar Wilde's philosophy, "making art for art's sake."
Yes, art-making is one kind of religion.
It's completely the same as you always being there, existing inside my words.

I'm getting low on ink. I have to be careful in how I use it.

(Translated by Night Deer Translations)

6/15 (I'll Dance)

嗚呼、透明よりも澄み切った心で
世の中を笑っているんだよ
嗚呼、音楽なんかを選んだ
あの日の自分を馬鹿に思うね

Ah, with a heart that’s clearer than transparent,

I’m laughing at the world
Ah, thinking back to when I chose music
I feel I was such an idiot then

伝えたい全部はもう
この詩も自分の声すらも

Everything I want to tell you–

This song, even my voice–

風になったから 泡と消えていったから
共感覚みたいこの感傷は何処かへ投げ捨てたい
僕でいいのなら 君が知りたいのなら
もう隠すことなんてないよ
今から少しだけ踊ろうぜ

Has turned into the wind and vanished with the bubbles
So I want to throw away this synesthesia-like sentiment
If it’s okay for me to do this, if you want to know,
I won’t hide anything anymore
From now on I’ll dance just a little

嗚呼、人間なんて辞めたいな
そうだろ、面白くも何にもないだろ
嗚呼、自慢のギターを見せびらかした
あの日の自分を潰してやりたいよ

Ah, I want to give up on being human

That’s right, nothing holds any interest for me anymore
Ah, thinking back on when I showed off that guitar I was so proud of
I want to crush the person I was back then

伝えたい全部はもう
夏も冬も明日の向こう側で

Everything I want to tell you–

The summer, the winter — beyond tomorrow

灰になったから 淡く消え去ったから
疾うに失くしてたこの情動も何処かへ投げ捨てて
君がいいのなら ただ忘れたいのなら
もう躊躇うことなんてないよ
このまま夜明けまで踊ろうぜ

It’s all become ash and disappeared in an instant

So I’m throwing away this emotion I lost long ago
If it’s okay with you, if you just want to forget
I won’t hesitate anymore
I’ll dance like this until dawn

嗚呼、音楽なんか辞めてやるのさ
思い出の君が一つも違わず描けたら
どうせもうやりたいこと一つ言えないからさ
浮かばないからさ
Ah, I’ve given up on music
If I write about you just as you were in my memory, with no changes at all,
Then there won’t be a single thing left that I want to do
Nothing comes to mind

君を知ったまま 日々が過ぎ去ったから
どうか追いつきたいこの情動をこのまま歌にしたい
今が苦しいならさ 言い訳はいいからさ
あぁもう、踊ろうぜほら

Because the days when I knew you are past

Somehow I want to capture this emotion I want to catch up with in a song
If my life now is painful, because I’ve had enough of the excuses,
Ah, well, I’ll dance — look

風になったのさ 泡と消えていったのさ
どうせ割り切れないこの感傷も何処かへ投げ捨てて
僕でいいのなら 君が知りたいのなら
もう隠すことなんてないよ
今から少しだけ
このまま少しだけ踊ろうぜ

It’s become the wind, it’s vanished with the bubbles

No matter what, I’ll throw away this sensation I can’t explain
If it’s okay for me to do this, if you want to know,
I won’t hide anything anymore
From now on, just a little,
Like this, just a little, I’ll dance

(Translated by EJ Translations)

5/17

I'm in a city called Linköping (Rinshōpin)

In Japanese, perhaps pronouncing it Rinshēpin would be closer to the actual pronunciation.
It's not that big of a city, but it's beautiful.

Close to the city center, there's an open air museum called Gamla Linköping.
I said it's an open air museum, but there's actually no building there that's big or eye-catching or
anything of the sort.
Gamla means "old" in swedish, and there, the townscape and livelihood of early Linköping is
preserved as-is. Should I try to put it into words, it's only this part of the city that feels like one is
being taken back to the 19th century; it's that kind of place.
It's a wonderful city, so should you ever visit this country, I think you should try going here too.

I'll talk about the song I wrote some days ago. This thing called "Flower Verdigris" is, in other
words, "Emerald Green."
I'm hopelessly ​mediocre​ when it comes to writing lyrics so if I don't come up with a theme
first, there will be times when I can't write enough words.

The Emerald Green is an artificial ​poisonous​ dye. In that song, it all refers to "tears."
"Tears" are surely similar to poison.
Tears that come from suffering, happiness, bitterness, sympathy, being deeply moved, ​regret​,
they all are some sort of a ​poison​.
I don't care whether they're a defense mechanism to protect the body against stress or if they're
to sort out feelings.
To me, they're all escapism.
They're a ​weakness​. If feelings are a ​weakness​, ​then tears are an ​anesthesia​ to justify
that weakness.
Tears that come out in order to deceive the heart, are nothing but ​narcissism​. They're a
poison​ that numbs character.

Back then, I didn't know that.

If my memories and work were laughed at back then,
If someone would just beat me hard and send myself flying then, then that would be ​fine​.
Tears that are hidden behind feelings of pride or self-esteem don't provide comfort, they're truly
a ​poison​.
I really, truly think they are.

(Translated by Night Deer Translations)

5/31 (In June, I'll Write About the Town After the Rain)

窓映る街の群青
雨樋を伝う五月雨
ぼうとしたまま見ている
雫一つ落ちる 落ちる
The ultramarine of the town reflected in the window
The early-summer rain flowing through the gutter
The drops of water I'm blankly starting at -
They fall one by one, one by one

心の形は長方形
この紙の中だけに宿る
書き連ねた詩の表面
その上澄みにだけ君がいる

My heart’s shaped as a rectangle

It resides only in the interior of this paper
And you only exist above the surface
Of these drawn-out songs I'm writing

なんてくだらないよ
馬鹿馬鹿しいよ
理屈じゃないものが見たいんだよ
深い雨の匂い
きっと忘れるだけ損だから

How incredibly stupid,

How ridiculous this is
I want to see something that isn’t rational
It's surely unfortunate to just forget
the smell of the deep rain, so

口を動かして
指で擦って
言葉で縫い付けて
あの街で待ってて

Move your mouth,

Trace it with your fingers,
Then sew it with words
And wait in that town

雨音の踊る街灯
薄暮の先の曲がり角
一人、足音のパレード
夏を待つ雲の霞青

The sound of rainfall dancing among the street lights,

The road turning at the other side of the twilight,
A one-man parade made of the sound of footsteps,
And the blue-colored mist of the clouds waiting for summer

今の暮らしはi^2
君が引かれてる0の下
想い出の中でしか見えない
六月の雨上がりの中で

My life now is i2
Subtracting you left me below zero
I can only see you within my memories
In the aftermath of the June rain

笑った顔だって書き殴って
胸を抉って
割り切れないのも知ってたんだろ
深い雨の匂いだって忘れるだけ損なのに

I scribble down even your smiling face

I'm gouging out my heart
You should already know that I can't figure it out
Even though it's unfortunate to even just forget the deep smell of the rain

ただ僕の書いた手紙を読んだ
君のその顔が見たい
あの夏を書いてる

I just want to see the face you'd make

After you read the letters I wrote
I'm writing about that summer

どうだっていい事ばかりだ
関わり合うのも億劫だ
言葉に出すのも面倒だ
結局君だけだったのか

Everything’s so trivial
Getting involved with others is too much trouble
Even putting my thoughts into words is a pain
So, it was only you after all, huh...

だってくだらないよ
馬鹿馬鹿しいよ
理屈じゃないのも知ってたんだよ
深い雨の匂い
ずっと雨の街を書いている

Like I said, it’s incredibly stupid,

It’s ridiculous
I always knew it wasn’t rational, you know
I'm always writing about the deep smell of the rain
And the raining town

心を動かして
胸を焦がして
このまま縫い付けて
あの街で待ってる

Being deeply moved

While yearning for you,
I'm sewing like this,
Waiting in that town

(Translated by EJ translations, Glens, edited by Loafer)

5/29

I'm staying in a hotel in Gamla Stan. It's bad, but it's been raining heavily for some days and I've
been stuck inside my room.
I think I've written about the meaning of Gamla before. In short, this town is an old town where
the pavements are made out of stones.

The pebbles-covered alley I looked down from the window is always fascinating, but with the
rain falling so heavily like this, even going out for a bit is a bother so I'm just writing songs and
lyrics in my room.

I want to talk about Henry Darger for a bit.

For more than 60 years, he kept writing stories alone in a one-room apartment in Illinois,
Chicago. Perhaps you know about him.

He ended up in a retirement home, and half a year before he died, for the first time others finally
got to see his hidden works that he piled up.
It's a 15.145 page manuscript of a novel and some hundred illustrations. Even now, it's still the
world's longest novel ever written.

The truth is, all of us ​creative artists​ ​should be like Henry Darger.
We shouldn't care about things like praise, fame, money, or power.
Purely making something just f​ or the sake of their own​ without thinking about gaining
anything out of it… How many people in this world are capable of that, I wonder.
I've always been thinking about this - he must've found h ​ appiness​ in the act of creating itself.

Each person considers what happiness is differently, but if even that ​happiness​ ​isn't
something that can be objectively measured,
If it's measured by one's way of life ​itself​,
Then what I've been doing up until now is just some ​deviancy​.
I want to make something that sells, I want to write something better than what other people
write, I just ​want to be recognized​; ​I've been doing everything with these as the only
motive.
"Why is he, and only he who gets all the recognition?" - I grumble like that over and over.
I continue making works with envy and jealousy as the driving force.

If that's the case, as I can't make things that sell, I should've done the appropriate thing
regardless of my personal feelings. I should've found some job, then write something when I
have the time. I should've gone looking for happiness even in desperation.
I've been doing music ​wrong​ this whole time.
I finally realized that.
That's all there is to it.
But supposing that is true, if the way ​I've​ been living my life isn't ​correct​ in the slightest,
then it really is fruitless, isn't it?
Isn't there no reward for us who've been living like this?
What do you think, Elma?

(Translated by Night Deer Translations)

5/15 (In May, From the Emerald-Green Window)

夏が終わることもこの胸は
気のせいだって思っていた

It felt like even the summer ending

Was just my imagination

空いた教室 風揺れるカーテン
君と空を見上げたあの夏が
いつまでだって頭上にいた

In an empty classroom, the curtain was swaying in the wind

There, I was watching the sky together with you
That summer will never cease to be on my mind

さようなら
青々と息を呑んだ 例う涙は花緑青だ
黙ったらもう消えんだよ
馬鹿みたいだよな

Goodbye
My youth bruised me and made me gasp; tears are just like the emerald-green*
If I don't say anything, then it will just disappear
I'm really acting like a fool

思い出せ！

Remember!

思い出せない、と頭が叫んだ
ならばこの痛みが魂だ
それでも それでも聞こえないというなら

"I can't remember," I screamed inside my mind

If that's the case, then this pain itself is my soul
Even so,
Even so, if you insist that you can't hear it…

愛想笑いの他に何も出来ない
君と夏を二人過ごした想い出を
笑われたって黙っている

I can't do anything other than forcing a smile

The memory of the two of us, spending that summer together
was laughed at, I'm stuck here saying nothing

笑うなよ 僕らの価値は自明だ
例うならばこれは魂だ
黙っただけ辛いのに馬鹿みたいだろ
なぁ、言い返せ

Don't laugh! Our value is self-evident

If I’m to make an analogy, this is the soul
I'm really acting like a fool, even though just staying silent is painful
Hey, say something!

言い返せないまま一人歩いた
指を指された僕が残った
それでも それでも思い出せないのか
Not being able to say anything back, I walked alone
Only my condemned self remained
Even so,
Even so, I still can't remember, huh...

さようなら
青々と息を呑んだ 例う涙は花緑青だ
黙ってくれ わかったよ
君の声がする

Goodbye
My youth bruised me and made me gasp; tears are just like the emerald-green*
Just shut up, I get it already
I can hear your voice

「思い出せ！」

"Remember!"

思い出したんだ、と喉が叫んだ
この痛みが君の証明だ
それでも それでも聞こえないというなら

"I remembered," I screamed from my throat

This pain itself is my proof of you
Even so,
Even so, if you insist that you can't hear it...

Notes:
(*) Refer to the letter 5/17 for explanation

(Translated by Night Deer Translations, edited by Loafer)

6/26

Visby, a city in Gotland, was a town that flourished in the viking age but over time declined as a
trading port, and even now a middle age-like flavor strongly remains in the town. There's a
rounded wall encircling the town built in the middle ages as castle defense, so you can see its
form unchanged for centuries. I'm writing from a hotel room in that town.
What I want to write about today isn't the usual topic about the intricacies of works of art, but just
a personal story. I once had something you could call pride, so when my work was criticized, I'd
be overcome with anger towards the part that was critiqued. No matter how bitterly I denied it,
I'd make my work with the intention of covering up that fact. Every night, relying on the
moonlight to write, I'd think only of the ways to get back at those assholes. I hated them so
much that I could ​kill t​ hem. That immature rebellious spirit refusing to accept a loss was my
gasoline. I keenly understood that my single greatest driving force was ​rage​.

I think it was around the start of last summer.

One evening, I went in front of the station for the first time in a while with my guitar to sing
songs. It was a street performance.
It was just after I had quit my long-held part time job, so it was a period when I was writing out of
force of habit​. It was a place without much foot traffic. The sunset was casting an orange
light on the shopping district on the other side of the street. Students, working men, young
couples, and elderly people would occasionally lightly stop walking, before losing interest and
leaving. It would repeat like that in an obvious loop without changing. It was right after I had
finished tuning for the next song.
Looking up right in front of me, suddenly a middle aged man was standing there staring at me. I
lightly bowed my head, then readied my​ guitar​.
A few minutes after I had begun playing my song, he was still listening without saying a word.
As the performance was drawing to a close, his body language returned to normal as if he had
lost interest, as he left his impression in a ​single remark.​.
"Boring song ain't it." He said.
What do you think I thought when I heard that?

I didn't care.
I didn't care at all, Elma.
I stopped playing there, and on my way home headed through the shopping district across the
street. I still can't forget the ​sunset​ confused for the night* I saw that day.

*the term used is yoru magai, meaning something like ‘night-sham’ or ‘imitation of night’. Point
being that it’s at the end of the sunset when it's fading into night.
7/11 Yoru Magai

toushindai wo utau toka sonna no dou demo ii kara

hitoyori mo raku ni ikitai doryoku wa shitaku nai

Who cares about singing faithfully

I wanna live taking it easier than other people, I don’t wanna work hard

utsumuita mama aruku kara sora no aosa ga wakaranai

kimi no shashin wo mite ita dake

Walking along with my head down, not realizing how blue the sky is
I’m stuck gazing only at your picture

garandou no kokoro ga yuuhi no machi wo aruiteku

juushin yori mo omoi to hikitsutta sono uso no bun dake

My hollow heart set out for a stroll in the sunset town

The part of it that’s a lie slowly and heavily growing more taut than the barrel of a gun
jinseigoto mashin gan, keshitobashite motto
shinzou sura saratte nee, sayonara hitokoto de
kanashii koto wo keshitai
ureshii koto mo keshitai
kokoro wo keshitai
kimi ni hitotsu de ii, tada ana wo aketai

Each life is a machine gun, blow it all away, more!

Hey, even the heart’s taken away, with just one parting word
I wanna erase these sad things
I wanna erase these happy things too
I wanna erase my heart
One’s enough for you, just wanna put a hole in you

namonai hana ga kirei toka sonna no dou demo ii kara

mazushii kokoro wo keshitai baito wa shitaku nai

“Nameless flowers are beautiful”, who cares about that

I wanna erase this obnoxiously bright heart, I don’t wanna work my job

utsumuita mama hanasu kara hito no kimochi ga wakaranai

kimi no shashin wo mite ita dake

Talking to people with my head down, I can’t understand people’s feelings

I’m stuck gazing only at your picture

raibu hausu no naka de toushindai wo utatteru

kane ni mo naranai you na uta nanka utaiyagatte sa, baka mitai da na

In the middle of the live bar, I’m faithfully singing

Having the nerve to sing songs for not money, it’s idiotic ain’t it

jinsei to wa mashin gan sonna koto wo iitai

rifureingoto utatte nee, sono nodo kara subete
setsunai uta wo keshitai yasashii uta mo keshitai
kiku dake de itai boku ni hitotsu de ii

Life is a machine gun, that’s what I’m getting at

Hey, sing on every refrain, with all of that throat
I wanna erase these painful songs
I wanna erase these kind songs too
Just listening hurts
One’s enough for me,
jinseigoto mashin gan keshitobashite motto
kurushiin da to waratte nee, sayonara hitokoto de
kimi ga kousei kakaete ikite iku you na omoide ni naritai miru dake de itai you na
tada hitotsu de ii kimi ni hitotsu de ii
kazaana wo aketai

Each life is a machine gun, blow it all away, more!

Hey, laugh that it’s painful, with one parting word
I wanna become a memory for you, that lives by passing it onto the next generation, I feel like
just watching hurts
Just one is enough, once is enough for you
I wanna penetrate through*

*this line in japanese means both “I wanna open a hole in you (put a bullet through you)” and “I
wanna breathe new life into you”.

5/6

North of Lund, on a road towards Stockholm, I met a thief.

Well, I don't really have anything left to lose, but I was bothered that they stole some cash that I
had and the extra ink that I had brought with me. As you know, I'm determined to use this old
pen and this ink when I write things, so, well, I'm saving it so I don't lose it.

I’ve been thinking about life’s​ ​expiration date.

I think that since life is similar to music to me, you can also say it's the same with the expiration
date of a work of art. Matsuo Basho left a quote saying "Let your haikus be written as if by a
child."
I think that can also be said about music.
Rather than focusing on works of music that we have been used to, music that focus on
technical skills to create, the really good ones are the works that have been poorly made but
have inspirational impulse within them.
And so, that's what made my music really fun to me, but it stopped 2 or 3 years after my initial
impulse. And if I am to be honest, it’s already passed its ​expiration date​.
There’s nothing but music for me.
Still, I couldn't create as much music as I wanted to, I didn't have the heart to break out of the
current problems, nor did I have any goals, and I just continued to ​imitate​ ​the art in a sluggish,
aimless, slow manner. It’s like pedaling a bike with no brakes. There's this quote from Agiwara
Sakutaro's poetry book collection that has been scattered around throughout the years.
"The ​thoughts​ ​that burn my emotions, alas, they are no longer to be found anywhere"
(Translated by anko;-;)

7/12 Parade

karada no oku nodo no mashita

kokoro ga aru to suru nara kimi wa soko nan darou kara

In the depths of my body right below the throat

If I do have a heart, it’s probably because you’re there

zutto mae kara wakatteita kedo

toshi toreba kimi no kao mo wasurete shimau kara sa
karada no oku nodo no naka de kotoba ga dekiru shunkan wo boku wa shiritai kara

I’ve understood for a long time now

That if I get older I’ll forget even your face
So I want to fully experience the moment deep in my body, in the middle of my throat, the
moment I can form words

kono mama yo ga aketara

If the night ends like this

kawakanai you ni omoide wo

nakusanai you ni kono uta wo
wasurenaide mou chotto dake de ii
hitoribocchi no pareedo wo

Store memories so it won’t dry out

Make this song so it won’t be lost
Please don’t forget, just a little bit more
This lonesome parade

zutto mae kara omotteta kedo

kimi no yubisaki no naka ni wa tabun kami-sama ga sundeiru
kyou, kinou yori zutto mae kara, zutto sono mukashi no mukashi kara.
wakarun da

I’ve thought this forever but

Within your fingertips, that’s probably where God is living
Today, long before yesterday, and long long before that.
I get it

karada no oku nodo no mashita

kimi no kaku uta wo tada maneru hibi wo

In the depths of my body, right below the throat

Are the days of imitating the songs you wrote

wasurenai you ni
kimi no inai ima no ondo wo

So I don’t forget
The temperature of the present where you’re not here

kawakanai you na omoide de

nakusenaide ita kono uta de
mou sukoshi de ii mou chotto dake de ii
hitoribocchi no pareedo wo

With the memories that seem like they’ll never dry out
With this song that would never been lost
A little more, just a little bit more
This lonesome parade

8/8

Visby really is a good town.

If you climb the steps of the Santa Maria cathedral, you get a nice hilltop view of the whole town.
On clear days at dusk, you can see the sun sink behind the horizon line over the ocean. Even
though I say all this, I think I've overstayed my welcome.
I only have a little money and ink left.
From here I'll return to Stockholm. It's the city that I walked in my childhood.

It must have been about a year ago.

It was when I quit my job. Have I written about quitting already? Well honestly, it wasn't quitting.
It was escaping.
[The writing gets faint from here due to the ink running out]
On those days as well, while I would hang my head getting yelled at by the boss for some trivial
mistake, I was always thinking of something completely separate. Robert Johnson, Jimmy
Hendrick, Brian Johns, Jim Morrison, all of them died at the peak of their musical careers at
age 27​.
That's the jinx called the 27 club. It's pretty famous.
I wonder if at the end of my life, if the last thing remaining will be satisfaction. I won't say 27, but
if the rest of my life was limited to ​just this​ time, I wondered if it'd be all for the better, to throw
everything away and confront only music.
Would I be able to call such a thing impossible, rot and stagnate until my death, and return to
meaningless​ ordinary life as it had been.

While thinking about such things, I had already packed my bags and flown out the door. It was a
beautiful waning moon ​night​. Riding my bike, I mindlessly arrived in front of the station. I
thought it nice to go somewhere far away for some reason.
I think about it now. ​At that time​, I had already decided to end it all this summer.

This single year. This single year is my entire life.

Life is too long to do nothing, but too short to do something.
That phrase of yours was probably pulled from The Moon Over the Mountain.
Under that moonlight, as if it were the sun filtered through the trees.

I finally remembered that time, Elma.

8/31 Elma

usotsuki nante wakatte furete

eruma mada mada itai yo
mou sayonara datte utatte
kurete yoru ga kuru made

I know I’m a liar, I feel it

Still Elma, it still hurts
So sing goodbye already
Until the darkening night falls

asahi no sasu komorebi boku to eruma

mada mada nemui kai
shoka no hajime chikazuku go gatsu no mori

Elma and I, with the morning sun shining through the trees on us
Are you still, still sleepy?
The early summer is drawing near in the May forest
arukidashita kao ni wa hana no shizuku
hora namida mitai da
kono mama akubi wo shiyou
nan nara mata isu ni demo suwarou

Walking out, on your face is the dew from a flower

Look, it’s like a teardrop
Let’s just stay here and yawn
Who knows, maybe we’ll even sit down in a chair

yurusenai koto nante nai nda yo

kimi wa yasashiku nante nareru

There’s nothing that can’t be forgiven, you know

You can become kind

kono mama doko ka no tooi kuni de

asai natsu no sukima ni nesobetta mama
namida mo kotoba mo denai mama de
tada yoru no fukasa mo shiranai mama de

Just like this, in some faraway land

Relaxing stretched out in the cracks of a pale summer
While I can still hold in my words and tears
While I don’t know the depths of the night ahead

usotsuki nante wakatte furete

eruma mada mada itai yo
mou sayonara datte utatte
kurete yoru ga kuru made

I know I’m a liar, I feel it

Still Elma, it still hurts
So sing goodbye already
Until the darkening night falls

tsurai koto mo kurushii koto mo nanimo mienai nara wakaranai shi

fusaida me tojita mama de nigeta
tsukiakari no michi wo aruku

Pain and sadness, if you can’t see anything you won’t understand them so
With my eyes shut tightly I ran away
I walk along the moonlit path
semai heya mo tsumetai yoru mo
nemui hiru mo sabishii asa mo
sayonara no kotobagoshi ni kimi no kao wo miteru

Cramped rooms and cold nights,

Dreamy afternoons and lonely mornings,
Between the words of farewell I’m looking at your face*

kono mama doko ka no tooi kuni de

asai natsu no sukima ni nesobetta mama
namida mo kotoba mo denai mama de
tada sora no aosa dake mita mama de

Just like this, in some faraway land

Relaxed, stretching out in the cracks of a pale summer
While I can still hold in my words and tears
While I’m still only looking at how blue the sky is

tada kimi to owari mo shiranai mama de

While I still don’t know about parting with you

usotsuki nante wakatte furete

eruma mada mada itai yo
mou sayonara datte utatte
kurete yoru ga kuru made

I know I’m a liar, I feel it

Still Elma, it still hurts
So sing goodbye already
Until the darkening night falls

*This is wordplay. Kotoba means word (言葉) but in terms of kanji means “word-leaf”. Hagoshi
(葉越し) means “through the leaves”, usually in the context of light being filtered through the
leaves, which also is brought up in the song (sasu komerebi = shining through the trees). So a
word is created by mashing kotoba and hagoshi together, “kotobagoshi”, and results in the
meaning of the line.
4/10

This will be my second time trying to write this letter.

I say letter, but you probably won't read this, so I think it's more of a journal.
I've been doing some things lately, other than music.
Gathering my belongings.
Cleaning my apartment.
I bought a ticket headed for that country, and packed my things.
Only the bare essential luggage, an ink bottle, a fountain pen, a camera, an acoustic guitar, and
a plain wooden box to hold the songs I write.
I think the money I saved up from my part time job should last me until the end of summer.

Now I depart for my journey.

My life's final journey.
It's a bit late to mention it, but how my music is, if it will sell or not, whether life is painful or not, I
really don't care anymore.
Elma. I wonder what I will think of during this journey, what I will feel.

8/25 That's Why I Quit Music

kangaetatte wakaranaishi aozora no shita kimi o matta
kaze ga fuita shogo hirusagari o nukedasu souzou
nee, korekara dounarundarou ne susumi kata osowaranainda yo
kimi no me o mita nanimo iezu boku wa aruita

I thought about it and still don’t get it You waited under the blue sky
On that breezy afternoon, my imagination escaped the confines of the day
Hey, what should I do from here No one ever taught me how to go forward
I met your eyes And walked away without saying anything

kangaetatte wakaranaishi seishun nante tsumaranaishi

yameta hazu no PIANO, tsukue o hiku kuse ga nukenai
nee, shourai nani shiterudarou ne ongaku wa shitenaito ii ne komaranaide yo

I thought about it and still don’t get it Youth is just so boring

I quit the piano already, but I can’t break the habit of playing it on my desk
Hey, I wonder what I’ll be doing in the future I sure hope it isn’t music ...Don’t worry about that

kokoro no naka ni hitotsusen o hiite mo doushitemo kienakatta

imasara nandakara, naa mou omoidasu na

Even when I drawn a line in my heart*, it just wouldn’t disappear

Hey, it’s already too late, so… don’t remember it!

machigatterunda yo wakattenai yo, antara ningen mo

hontou mo ai mo sekai mo kurushisa mo jinsei mo dou demo ii yo
tadashii ka douka shiritai no datte boei honnou da kangaetanda anta no sei da

I’m wrong I don’t get it at all All of you humans,

true love, the world, suffering, life, I don’t care about it
Wanting to know whether you’re right or not is just a self preservation instinct
I thought about it
It’s your fault

kangaetatte wakaranaiga, hontouni toshi oitakunainda

itsuka shindaratte omoudake de mune ga karappo ni narunda
shourai nanishiteru daroutte otona ni nattara wakatta yo nanmo shitenai sa

I thought about it and don’t get it but, I really don’t want to grow older
Just thinking about how I’ll one day die makes my chest grow empty
When thinking about what I’d do in the future,
I understood what’d happen when I became an adult--
I wouldn’t do a damn thing
shiawasena kao shita hito ga nikui no wa dou warikittara iinda
mitasarenai atama no oku no bakemono mitai na rettoukan

How can I explain why I hate people who wear happy faces
Like a monster, an inferiority complex lurks in the depths of my mind

machigattenai yo naa, nandakanda antara ningen da

ai mo sukui mo yasashisa mo konkyo ga nai nante kimi ga warui yo
rabusongu nanka ga itai no datte boei honnouda dou demo ii ka anta no sei da

I’m not wrong am I, at the end of the day you’re all humans
Love, salvation, kindness, it’s repulsive how they all have no basis
The pain of cheap love songs is just a self preservation instinct
Do I really not care?
It’s your fault

kangaetatte wakaranaishi ikiteru dake demo kurushiishi

ongakutoka mou karanaishi kashitoka tekitou demo ii yo dou demo iinda

I thought about it and still don’t get it Just living is painful

I can’t write music anymore, I don’t care if the lyrics are sloppy I just don’t care

machigattenai darou machigattenai yo na machigattenai yo na

I’m not wrong right I’m not wrong am I ...I’m not wrong, am I?

machigatterunda yo wakatterunda antara ningen mo

hontou mo ai mo sukui mo yasashisa mo jinsei mo dou demo iinda
tadashii kotae ga ienai no datte boei honnouda dou demo ii ya anta no seida

I’m wrong, I know it already! All you humans

true love, salvation, kindness, life, I don’t care about it
That I can’t say the right answer is a self preservation instinct
Ah, I don’t care!
It’s your fault

boku datte shinnen ga atta ima ja gomi mitaina omoida

nandodemo kimi wo kaita urerukoto koso ga doudemo yokattanda
hontouda hontou nanda mukashi wa soudatta

Even I once had something I believed in, though now the sentiment is like garbage
When I wrote about you again and again, I didn’t care whether or not it sold
It’s true, it’s really true It really was like that

dakara boku wa

That’s why I

dakara boku wa ongaku o yameta

That’s why I quit music

*I don’t know if it’s intentional, but some japanese comment mentioned how if you draw a line
through the word heart to make he/art, he and art, it represents Amy's separation between
himself and music, and himself and his work in general.

8/31

I've run out of ink. Please forgive me if some of this is illegible.

Even so Elma, ​me​ ending up like this,

it's not that I ​despaired​ over music, or that I've abandoned life.
A story that doesn't end is boring. A tale that keeps dragging on isn't elegant.
Life has to be the same way.
If my own tale is to be written, it can't be shown by anything but music.
What I've seen on this journey, what I've felt, I wrote my music with only that.
The songs I've put in this box are a single work that symbolizes me.
You could say that the music is itself my very life.
Elma, I could never give it to anyone but you.

I don't know what will happen to the box that I put this letter in.
I'm praying that some kind stranger will read the memo on it and return it to your address.

I'm all out of paper.

I've been remembering that time a lot lately.
Myself, getting used to being a pianist... myself, wanting to become an ​author​...
Myself, without being able to give up on my dream of music, starting to write songs.
Until now, my life has been a series of compromises.
Truly, I lived compromising everything.

Now I can say it. Now, even with who I am.

I once gave up on music. Why I started writing again...
was because I read ​your​ songs, Elma.
You didn't show me often, but that time when I felt you through your song, I saw the moonlight.

The ​unerring​, faultless ​light​ that can only illuminate the night*.

Unimaginably light, dazzling beyond my wildest dreams, pa​le​ ​mo​on​li​gh​t

*the japanese phrase is "yoru shika terasanai mubyuu no hikari". yoru shika... yorushika. yep.