The colour of lilacs,
The fragrance of lilacs,
With the worries of lilacs,
Feeling melancholy in the rain,
Plaintive and hesitating.
She wanders along the solitary lane in the rain,
Holding an oil-paper umbrella
Just as I do,
Just like me,
Walking slowly in silence,
Aloof, sad and melancholy.
Silently she comes closer,
Closer, giving me
A glance like a sigh;
Then she floats past
Like a dream,
Dreary and blank like a dream.
Like a lilac
Floating past in a dream,
the girl floats past me;
Silently she goes further and further,
To the crumbling wall,
Out of the lane in the rain.
In the mournful melody of the rain,
Her colour has faded,
Her fragrance has disappeared,
Vanished into the void;
Even her glance like a sigh,
Melancholy like lilacs.
Alone holding an oil-paper umbrella,
I wander along a long
Solitary lane in the rain,
Hoping to pass
A girl like a bouquet of lilacs
Gnawed by anxiety and resentment.
The Alley in the Rain
Holding an umbrella, I'm alone
Wandering about the long, long,
Lonely alley in the rain,
Hoping to encounter
A girl who bears her melancholy
Like a lilac flower.
She has
The color of a lilac,
The fragrance of a lilac,
And the melancholy of a lilac.
She looks sorrowful in the rain,
Sorrowful and depressed.
She paces the lonely alley,
Holding an umbrella,
Like me,
Just like me—
Walking quietly and slowly
In coldness, solitude and melancholy.