春はいつも遠くに行けない
騒がしい命の息吹が、視線がとても怖かった
私はその恐怖に執着していたい
妄想と現実が溶けあっていく 微熱が続くままに
Spring can never seem to carry me far.
The loud breathing of life—its restless gaze—terrified me.
And still, I want to cling to that fear,
as illusion and reality dissolve into one,
a low fever lingering without end.
