In the opening verse, I can sense the distance between Takashi's descriptive powers and Haruomi's. But, as I've elaborated elsewhere, Takashi has never (as far as I know) gone confessional like Haruomi on this album. And Haruomi going confessional is disarming. He's honest about his residual longing for the city. He notices the roosters. And he humanizes all that gorgeous stuff about tea and community by pointing out (no few times) that all these musician-migrants to Sayama and their families were constantly catching colds.
:::
The lamps of the city
are about to be extinguished,
and when the dust from the stars
falls down with the rain,
the last light from those lamps
will flow back to the sea.
We're crossing the winter.
It's the turn of the seasons.
And somebody sneezes.
The cloudy sky
looks like it's collapsing.
The city lights weigh
on my mind.
But now I'm a person
who lives in the country.
Every morning I listen
to the roosters crow.
We're crossing the winter.
It's the turn of the seasons.
And somebody sneezes.
Somebody sneezes...
There's so much to talk about.
And somebody sneezes.
People and their shadows
are coming and going,
coming and going over tea,
talking over feelings.
Spoonfuls of coarse sugar,
cups of black tea,
and shared sympathy.
We're crossing the winter.
It's the turn of the seasons.
And somebody sneezes.
Somebody sneezes...
There's so much to talk about.
And somebody sneezes.
Somebody sneezes...
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