It still fits the formula I described here, but it's more complicated and penetrating than the other '81 Takashi songs I've worked on. That ambiguous refrain! What memories are in question? Is it that the narrator is left with nothing but memories now, because her lover isn't actually going to return anymore? Or is it the memories that she and her lover have yet to create?
The storyline becomes clear by the end, but knowing the ending doesn't dampen repeat listens. Each verse is a lovely scene in its own right, carefully poised, patient and precise. The third verse ("you aren't here...") is so pristine and elemental, it feels like a haiku. And the last verse is painfully and poignantly suggestive even though / because so little is directly spoken (except that, at the same time, everything is; the words the main character uses are exactly the words she means to say; but the context she says them in obscures what she really means by them).
Kazuo Zaitsu's setting, in Shigeru Suzuki's soft rock arrangement, sounds like fluff at first, but the melodies sink in, especially if you know what words they're caressing.
I've left out the verse-ending tag of "La La December Morning" (lyric websites have each word charmingly capitalized, just so).
:::
Flurries of powdery snow
dance on the wind.
I've awakened in a silver world.
I'm sitting on the terrace, chin in hand,
looking towards where the traces of your skis
are bound to appear.
Winter's narrative is as blank as paper.
Two people can write down their memories there.
You aren't here.
The lodge is lonely.
I made coffee.
The bright red jacket
is the sign I've awaited.
As soon as I notice, I wave.
Winter's narrative is as blank as paper.
Two people can write down their memories there.
Teach me how to ski.
And keep your promises —
all right, my love?
(Back to: List of Translations)
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