The truth is in the after-glow.
Is there a reason?
I don't really know.
And, should the sun neglect to rise,
how do we carry on?
Yes, I see through their petty lies -
and, yes, it hurts so much.
There is no apparent reason.
I cannot touch
the edges of - no, must not go there.
Is there a reason?
I don't know, but I know that
I simply can't not care.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem