學習院の鐘が鳴る　午後の微睡みに

私は　退屈といふ名の　絹の衣を纏ふ

「お行きなさい」と　乳母の視線が背を突くけれど

私の心は　糊のきいてゐない　未來を欲しがつてゐる

――眩惑たる象牙の塔。

殿方たちが並べる　愛の修辞は

どれも　おしろいの粉のやうに　白々しくて

私の純潔は　冷たい水晶の監獄

指先ひとつ觸れさせない　高貴なる拒絶。

あぁ　野蠻な情熱で　この私を奪つて

計算違ひの　悲劇さへも　今は裝身具

大聖堂の天窓が　粉々に碎け散るほどの

殘酷な春が　私を大人に變へる　刹那。

眞實なんて　ただの　飾り立てられたる幻影。

銀座の舗道　踵を鳴らして

流行の渦を　輕蔑の眼差しで泳ぐ

母様の午餐會　お喋りの茶碗

そこには　毒も華もない　乾いた砂の味

三等客車の　匂ひを知りたがるのは

贅澤な病だと　誰かが笑ふかしら

でも　この胸の拍動は　頓・通・頓と

禁じられた　領域を　叩いてゐる

あぁ　清らかな惡意で　この世界を汚して

予定調和の　幸福なんて　一番の退屈

軌道を外れて　泥濘を歩く悦びに

震へる指先　氣泡緩衝材を潰す　律動。

運命なんて　ただの　脆弱なる硝子。

春となり　視界は淡く光を孕み

私は　一冊の戯曲を　破り捨てる

山頂の雪が　解け出すその瞬間に

本当の　私が目覚める　幕あき。

「愛してゐる」なんて　言葉の遊戯

もう　お終ひに致しませう　退屈なだけ

大聖堂、あなたには　見えてゐるかしら

私が選ぶ　汚れなき　デサスタア。

あぁ　野蠻な情熱で　この私を奪つて

計算違ひの　悲劇さへも　今は裝身具

空の紺碧が　心臓を突き抜けるなら

私は永遠の　「お嬢さん」　を卒業する

愛なんて　ただの　華麗なる　遊戯。

The Noble Maiden

（OJOU-SAN）

The bells of Gakushūin ring through the afternoon slumber,

I drape myself in a silken robe named "Boredom."

"It is time to go," my nurse’s gaze prods my back,

But my heart longs for a future that hasn’t been starched flat.—A Dazzling Ivory Tower.

The rhetoric of love that gentlemen lay out before me,

Is as hollow and pale as the powder on their faces.

My purity is a prison of cold crystal,

A noble refusal, letting not even a fingertip touch.

Ah, snatch me away with a savage passion!

Even a miscalculated tragedy is but an accessory now.

Until the skylights of the Duomo shatter into pieces,

A cruel spring changes me into a woman in this fleeting moment.

Truth is nothing but a decorated illusion.

Clicking my heels on the pavements of Ginza,

I swim through the vortex of fashion with a gaze of disdain.

At Mother’s luncheon, over the chatter of teacups,

There is only the taste of dry sand—no poison, no flowers.

Is it a luxurious malady, they might laugh,

To crave the scent of a third-class railway carriage?

Yet the pulse in this chest, Ton-tsu-ton,

Is knocking on the doors of a forbidden realm.

Ah, stain this world with a pure-hearted malice!

A pre-established happiness is the ultimate boredom.

Derailed and walking through the mire with ecstasy,

Trembling fingertips, a rhythm crushing the bubble wrap.

Fate is nothing but fragile glass.

Spring has come, the vision pregnant with faint light,

I tear to pieces a single volume of a play.

The very moment the snow on the summit begins to melt,

The curtain rises, and the true "Me" awakens.

"I love you"—such a mere game of words,

Let us put an end to it; it is nothing but tedious.Duomo, I wonder if you can see it?

The stainless Disaster that I have chosen.

Ah, snatch me away with a savage passion!

Even a miscalculated tragedy is but an accessory now.

If the azure of the sky pierces through my heart,

I shall graduate from being the eternal "Ojou-san."

Love is nothing but a magnificent game.