We have lost even this twilight¹.

　　No one saw us this evening hand in hand

　　while the blue night dropped on the world.

　　I have seen from my window

　　the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.

　　Sometimes a piece of sun

　　burned like a coin in my hand.

　　I remembered you with my soul clenched²

　　in that sadness of mine that you know.

　　Where were you then？

　　Who else was there？

　　Saying what？

　　Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly

　　when I am sad and feel you are far away？

　　The book fell that always closed at twilight

　　and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.

　　Always， always you recede³ through the evenings

　　toward the twilight erasing⁴ statues.