When a loved one dies...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V-H_L_I-T6M
Sometimes I let things slip and suddenly there's five or six releases from virgin babylon, which, modestly and quietly, keeps chugging away as my favorite record label. When I find out that they have new stuff, I'm always a little hesitant, because it will either be so emotionally crippling that I lose some productivity and my perspective gets all out of whack, or it won't and I'll be disappointed (although this has never happened).
Likewise this song of the day seems like it has to be another long rambling attempt to drill down into the appeal of this sort of music, and figure out if it's actually a genre, or if there's actually any consistent characteristics besides "Japanese" and "I like it". I think there is, but I have a hard time getting it into words, and I think if I tried it'd take the whole afternoon, and then I'd fail.
So instead I'm just gonna transcribe the English translation that virgin babylon provided of the poem BOOL has written for this song, because I don't know if anyone has done that yet, and I wanted to see it all written out. There's probably a way to pull this from the Youtube video automatically but sometimes it's nice to take the time to copy down word for word something you really like.
"Whims of a Spring Day"
When a loved one dies,
You have to commit suicide.
When a loved one dies,
No other recourse remains.
But even so, if your life is long,
And the consequences of your actions run deep,
The inspiration to serve will grow.
The inspiration to serve will grow.
Because a loved one has died,
Because that person is definitely gone,
Because you can't do anything
For their sake,
For their sake,
The inspiration to serve must grow.
The inspiration to serve must grow.
The inspiration to serve may develop,
But there is nothing special you can do.
If it's a book, more attention is given than before
Or politeness extended to people more than before
You keep a proper tempo while walking
You weave your strips of straw piously -
Almost as if you are a toy solider
Almost as if everyday is a Sunday
Strolling in swatches of sun around the shrine,
You smile if you run into someone you know,
You befriend the old candy vendor,
Sprinkle treats around you for the pigeons,
And when you seek shade from the light,
You study the earth and flora there.
The moss exudes quite a coolness,
And today is wonderful beyond words.
Worshippers are walking by in droves,
And I find myself completely at peace.
(A fleeting dream indeed, our lives,
With the beauty of a balloon.)
Climbing into the sky, shining, disappearing -
Hello there, how are you doing today?
It's been a while - how have things been?
Why don't we find a place to have some tea?
We enter the tea shop in good spirits,
But our talk is of the idle sort.
Smoking our cigarettes gloomily,
With an indescribable resignation -
While outside, an absolute commotion!
- I guess I'll see you later, regards to the wife,
If you go abroad, please keep in touch.
Try not to drink too much, OK.
Carriages are passing, trams are passing too.
Our lives, like a bride indeed.
So bright, so beautiful, a coy drop of the head,
Would it be too much to get her to talk?
Either way, it'll gratify the heart.
Our lives, indeed like a bride.
OK everybody,
Without being overly happy or overly sad,
Let's shake hands with the proper tempo.
After all, we fully grasp that
What we are all lacking is a little honesty.
Hello, OK everybody, hello, all together now -
Let's shake hands with the proper tempo.
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