(蓮狂虚言絶叫その一）泥華虫金、一番の宝物 (和訳中）(Padma-Madna-Falsehood-Mantra-Shout I):Dirty Flower, Worm-Gold, the most precious treasure
Painting: the Storm by George Inness, 1885
絵画：嵐 ジョージ・イネス作 1885年
タイトルは "in（お洒落）"で "cool（駄洒落） "な響きを意図している。このように、私はそれを屠殺し、その肉を切り刻んだ。謝罪と弁明を申す。
The title is meant to sound "in" and "cool", so what is out of time can be in the fashion of time. Thus I have butchered it and carved up its meat. Apologies and apologetics.
以下の曲順で聴きながら書いた：
I wrote this while listening to the following songs and tracks in the following order:
(そしておそらく、シラーの詩「歓喜の歌」とベートーヴェンのその同人編曲を頭の中で思い浮かべていっただろう）。
(and probably thinking of the poem "Ode to Joy" by Schiller and Beethoven's doujin arrangement of it)
1.Symphony No. 5 in C Minor, Op. 67: I. Allegro con brio, Beethoven (ベートーヴェン)
2.華鳥風月、幽閉サテライト
3. 色は匂へど散りぬるを、幽閉サテライト
4.華鳥風月,幽閉サテライト、幽閉サテライト
5.一番の宝物 (Yui ver.)、 LiSA & Girls Dead Monster
6.一番の宝物 ~Yui final ver.~、 LiSA & Girls Dead Monster
7.Alchemy marina、 & Girls Dead Monster
8.Alchemy (Yui ver.)、LiSA & Girls Dead Monster
9.Alchemy (Yui ver.)、 Girls Dead Monster
10七転八起☆至上主義!、KOTOKO (ハヤテのごとく、二期OP）
……………….
Dirty Flower, Worm-Gold,
the most precious treasure
泥華虫金、一番の宝物
The nostalgia for the defiled earth
which is the purest pure-land
穢れ泥と謂う究極の浄土への
郷愁
down within the earth and manure
did we become fragrant like roses?
so why ye from all things vile and pure
avert then ye delicate flower-noses?
who is to mourn the cold corpses,
of the young and innocuous boys,
who drank soda from the stream
and ate dark ground-chocolate
yesterday, but today,
their unresponsive forms left behind,
their mouths, forgot to crunch or suck.
when they grew up to become men.
…sombre Spring and her tender neck,
big awkward cotton-muffled feet, went through.
tossed, tossed, all things half-heartedly tossed.
with some lukewarmth half-measured.
where are the worms frozen dead now?
did roses by her Father in shame disavowed?
for sure, for sure, all love spontaneous,
subterrain, or above the earth as well,
must have blossomed and bloomed out of dire
desperation; from and into it are born
(gloomy, gloomy desperations,)
most ungraceful and discourteous budding scions,
but what of it? desperate love being itself
is it not the proof his deepest ink crave
flowing deep deep in his fountain grave
in illuminant lie and falsehood's honest cave
in the absence of anything candid?
full of moldering painful life's tricks dreadful sordid?
in the milieu of senseless animal history so utterly stupid?
do you, who lace-ship and heart-bind two birds
in a musical or a song;
or things moving in pictures,
and animéted in art; are you not.
so pure, so pure?
so vile, "but" and "and" so pure?
I sleep.. I am drunk…
I am lost…
Strong as one were,
No one fights the walking drowsiness.
That is the passing feet of sadness wearing rose-petaled black night.
Full of earth incense.