#surou

Incoming SHIP: SURYxREYI

My feelings are in constant circulation for 365 days, but they seem both simple and complex.

Human emotions, bitter sweetness, melancholy doesn’t seem to have an expiration The attachment to “what if” following a period - it’s all incomphrensible, so the sentiments pile up Things like number theory ask nothing of us White or black? Loss or gain? Or things that don’t fit in with anything else? I’ve been away for so long
 If I turn back, where will you be in the thick fog? If I cover my eyes, what will become of the withering flowers?

Growing slowly apart, saying goodbye feels like a dream Transient, but not yet disappearing The wind erases the voices, and though the memories are unseen, they dance

An erasure with sentimentalism, the end of fatalism; the complete and perfect form will be carried over to the next world A timeline, when I dig up the self-consciousness I had buried, it will be the universe by the time I come back

Unable to land, I drift around the moon, and here I swim through the world’s faded colors Within the second of darkness from the blink of an eye, I watch the beginning and the end Instantaneous, but not yet to be erased It is but the wind that whispers the names, and smiles intermittently

Though it tangles, the collapsing shadow picture is already merely a shadow Though it closes, what is it that you now hold in your open palm?

Growing slowly apart, saying goodbye feels like a dream Transient, but not yet disappearing, which makes it beautiful Before I knew it, time had stopped, so even when I try to go back, I will always be in the same place And even though I search, it’s no use. Who is it making this noise? The wind erases the voices, and though the memories are unseen, they dance And though the memories are unseen, they dance

orz this was really hard to translate, so i'm not sure if it's even any good. ごめんね。

for 365 days, even though my emotions have continued to circulate, they seem simple but it's as though they're difficult to understand.

human emotions, bittersweet, neither of them seem to apply to my overdue melancholy what if there were lingering feelings at the decimal point; since it's unconvincing my sentiments multiply the theory of numbers; well then, we can't ask questions black or white, or loss or win, or something that corresponds to neither, it's such a long absence

if we turn back it'll be foggy, and then where are you? why do the flowers wither when i turn my eyes away?

slowly becoming scattered, even saying good bye feels like a dream the wind is drowning out my voice; i hate that it's fleeting but it's not yet disappearing i dance even though i can't see my memories

the erasure of address with sentimentalism, fatalism too has ended, terminated, carrying over the system of completion to the new world timeline; if i dig up my buried self-consciousness, around when i go home in the universe,

i won't be able to land; drifting around the moon's surface, simply swimming in that discoloured world

in the darkness of the one-second of a blink, all i can see are endings and beginnings the wind is giving me a name; i hate that it's painful but don't erase it yet if it's broken then i'll laugh

even if it's tangled, keeps on crumbling, a silhouette is still just a shadow even though it's bound, keeps undo-ing, what's in the palm of my hand now?

slowly becoming scattered, even saying good bye feels like a dream i hate that it's fleeting but it's not yet disappearing, so it's pretty because time stopped when i didn't know, even if i try to turn back this is like the starting point returning is no good, but who's making that noise? the wind is drowning out my voice and i dance even though i can't see my memories i dance even though i can't see my memories