Those days when I was an average boy
who stood around browsing through books in the corner bookstore
are vivid in my heart.

A road where a rock was missing,
a disheveled shirt,
a scar like one left by a lightning bolt,
(and) the faint stirrings of a first crush.
Unaware of the unrelenting pulse of my heartbeat,
that boy played in innocence
as though thinking of anything and everything...

As though nothing at all were broken,
as though nothing at all were impossible,
as though never noticing that anything could be lost,

I ran along the road of the winds.

Having run through a signal
in a dripping wet uniform,
in the summer when that encouraging song
dissolved into dust,
without recognizing that time was even passing,
a boy played on that day
as though entranced by anything and everything.

As though nothing at all were bewildering,
as though nothing at all were untrustworthy,
as though never noticing that I could be parted from anything,

I swam in the center of the winds.

As though nothing at all should be feared,
as though nothing at all could wound,
as though never noticing that anything could be lost,

and so, here I am.