WITHOUT A TRACE

I peel off my frail consciousness Slowly so my footsteps making a sound I become ash, scattering into little pieces It's only this, nothing more... Without a trace The feeling that I'm aware of my ignorance Is more cowardice than helplessness Crawling into the bottom of my mixed consciousness I ask my subconsciousness... I cannot see the lotus right before my eyes Burying your breath in the still season You, who waited for help, got wet The withered song you cannot hear anymore Has no exceptions; I'm crying The tears I shed for my loss Will also flow when you are pulled down by sadness So that I don't have to watch someone else die without help I close my eyelids My body that's entwined within the spiral Is slowly, slowly twisting In my throat, there are thousands of questions I want to ask; For me, what can I save? The lotus is dying right before my eyes Burying your breath in the still season You, who waited for help, got wet The withered song you cannot hear anymore Has no exceptions; I'm crying Like a dense fog clearing up Like a proof of existence that won't disappear If this song reaches you You'll probably think it's hypocrisy Burying your breath in the still season You, who waited for help, got wet Like my raised voice you can no longer hear I know my sins can't be restored