I peel off my frail consciousness
Slowly so my footsteps making a sound
I become ash, scattering into little pieces
It's only this, nothing more...
Without a trace

The feeling that I'm aware of my ignorance
Is more cowardice than helplessness
Crawling into the bottom of my mixed consciousness
I ask my subconsciousness...
I cannot see the lotus right before my eyes

Burying your breath in the still season
You, who waited for help, got wet
The withered song you cannot hear anymore
Has no exceptions; I'm crying

The tears I shed for my loss
Will also flow when you are pulled down by sadness
So that I don't have to watch someone else die without help
I close my eyelids

My body that's entwined within the spiral
Is slowly, slowly twisting
In my throat, there are thousands of questions I want to ask;
For me, what can I save?
The lotus is dying right before my eyes
Burying your breath in the still season
You, who waited for help, got wet
The withered song you cannot hear anymore
Has no exceptions; I'm crying

Like a dense fog clearing up
Like a proof of existence that won't disappear
If this song reaches you
You'll probably think it's hypocrisy

Burying your breath in the still season
You, who waited for help, got wet
Like my raised voice you can no longer hear
I know my sins can't be restored