You’re born and born to die
The singing of cicadas pouring forth is woe
Echoes in the ever-changing world
Whole wide world
All that is transient
Skin dried and cracking
Like an old woman
The starving infant, unable to speak
Dwells in the gloom of mother’s womb
Sigh of the Kishimo, the goddess of the childbirth and children
Sigh of the ogre-beast
Breathing faintly
A lump of earth and a piece of stone
Turning back into the womb
Even if you try to see it
It is invisible
Even if you try to hear it
It is unheard
Even if you try to smell it
Ou won’t
Even if you try to touch it
It is untouchable
A slight smile on mother’s face
Is like a beast with no life in its eyes
A dripping pomegranate is the color of blood
In thoughtless world
In unconscious world
Count the bodies that travel through the shadowy realm of
Chuuin
Tsukinowa, the place filled with filth
Sleeping alone
Agonies in the inferno
Is like a rumble of thunder in distance
Guren, the bright red flames rise
Whole wide world
All that is transient
Full of filth in the Tsukinowa
Unfamiliar mother was lying down
On the grass and looking up smiling faintly
Even if you try to see it
It is invisible
Even if you try to hear it
It is unheard
Even if you try to smell it
You won’t
Even if you try to touch it
It is untouchable
Older brother’s smiling eyes
Are as black as ink
Glare at the moon full of filth
A place of exile
In thoughtless world
In unconscious world
Raise a cloud of billowing dust
Of the empty cicada shells
The sobbing of Gozu
Echoes throughout the ground
Warmth of the cicada shell
Mother’s love that melts in the kiln
Born, born, born, the end of life is hopeless
Die, die, die, the death comes to all