Amazarashi - 穴を掘っている [Digging Holes] (Ano o hotteiru) Лирицс транслатион то енглисх

Guitar, play more softly

Guitar, play more softly
Someone might hear
Only he must understand
He alone must know
That I’m talking about love
 

The moon is still in the sky
The firefly is on the apple tree
No one sleeps tonight
Not even him, who at this hour
Holds the pillow and sighs
 

The time
To give all the love I have in my heart
To say goodbye forever or forgive
And love like no one else can
It’s time
To breathe a little pure air
A meadow is green when it’s spring
The sun is warm and then evening comes for us...
 

The moon is still in the sky
The firefly is on the apple tree
My guitar, play more softly
Even though the hand is uncertain
Play guitar, for it’s the time
 

The time
To give all the love I have in my heart
To say goodbye forever or forgive
And love her like no one else can
It’s time
To breathe a little pure air
A meadow is green when it’s spring
The sun is warm and then evening comes for us
 

Guitar, play more softly
Someone might hear
 

The will of a loner

What subject should I choose now, what should I tell you?
I look in the mirror and see myself at the end of the road.
I must care for my fellows when others dig their graves,
As if they thirst for it—look into your own grave.
 

Lay down with the dead, toast a glass of life,
Inhale for the last time, exhale without hope.
Because tomorrow births new sacrifices of forgetting
You cried yesterday, and your tears open the gates of calling.
 

Bells toll in the distance I light my last cigarette.
'Give me just one more light' — this is the thousandth time
When I hold Heaven in my palms and willingly lose it through my fingers,
I bow down and gather pieces of Hell.
 

Father, what is your reasoning when you threaten us with punishments? Happiness not.
You'll be left alone in the house of the skies,
You surely know this too.
The dreams of humanity go where reason has not yet arrived—
Too much happiness or ignorance does not constitute an answer.
 

For me, it’s enough I’ve grown tired of hoping,
Of borrowing from myself and always asking of myself again,
Of being in debt to my own being, always in distress,
Only to say, in the end, that I have nothing and deserve a slap.
 

I go outside no one’s there. I walk like a madman,
Leaving no traces, only lead. It feels like every road
Has remained as it was I relive my childhood
When joy embraced me, now nostalgia overtakes me.
 

And anger for the passing years I feel within,
They turn into illusions—you know I’m serious when I lie to you.
I sit on a rotten bench in the middle of nowhere,
It’s late at night, and by morning, I won’t be-
 

Present in this world, I must say
This really isn’t an album it’s a goodbye message.
Eternal peace awaits me, along with smoke and coffee,
And all the dear ones already gone—the owl knows them well.
 

One by one, in an orderly line, the memories have left.
When you don’t know who you are, everything ends.
To the apocalypse of the end, perceive another realm lightly
In the end, we all board the same train and won’t get off.
 

It leads to nowhere—indifferent, inept, or wise—
Nothing here helps when asked for your ticket.
You can’t take wealth with you you pay with your early dreams.
So, my friend, chasing money means wasted time.
 

What inheritance should I leave? Perhaps a thought, but not even that.
I tried to be where no one else wanted
To stay, to listen to you, to say a kind word.
A warm caress matters when your soul is frost-covered.
 

The string of questions laced with regret on paper
Is a lie that could heal any real wound.
Here, theoretically, is the final point, and practically,
Thus ends the pitiful will of a loner.
 

Digging a Hole

I'm digging a hole—where did I go wrong in life?

I'm digging a hole, jamming the shovel in with self-abandonment.

The wind howls in the forest, and the nightjars cry out.

Under a perfectly round full moon, I’m being surveilled at 25 o’clock.
 

I'm digging a hole—he finally slipped up.

I'm digging a hole—this is the outcast’s pitfall.

Wiping the sweat off my brow doesn’t wipe away the regret too.

Only my bad luck sticks to me like a medal pinned to my chest.
 

The yawning mouth of the darkness stirs up visions of my childhood.
My dad used to say, “Even villains can go to heaven.”

 

After all, God is a villain too. Even brats know that much.
Cry, wail, pray all you like.
The proof is that we were shat out into a world like this.
Maybe that’s just life, and the sooner you give up, the better.
I’ve given up on myself. Gave up the moment I was born.
 

I'm digging a hole—for that friend who was once mine.

I'm digging a hole—for that friend who no longer moves.

In the lantern’s light, my shadow looks like a demon.

For a street in this town, this is just a typical end.
 

If we’d managed to scrape by somehow, everything was supposed to have been fine.

My dad used to say, “Despair always tags along with hope.”
 

After all, even God is a villain. He just lets us go on hoping and hoping.

Cry, wail, pray all you like.
His trick is always the same.
Maybe that’s just life, and the sooner you give up, the better.
I’ve given up on myself. Gave up the moment I was born.
 

I'm digging a hole—with a gun pressed against my back.

I'm digging a hole—a hole that I’ll get in myself.
What an absolutely worthless life it’s been. I could laugh.

It just pisses me off—why does it always have to be me?

With enough momentum to shred this life to pieces,

I’m digging a hole. I’m digging a hole.

I’m digging a hole. I’m digging a hole.
 

After all, I’m a villain too. That much was decided back when I was just a brat.
I cried, wailed, and prayed—I couldn’t choose where I had been born.
 Maybe that’s just life,
and the sooner you give up, the