Don't Go Far Off, Not Even For A Day

Don't go far off， not even for a day， because ——

　　because —— I don't know how to say it： a day is long

　　and I will be waiting for you， as in an empty station

　　when the trains are parked off somewhere else， asleep.

　　Don't leave me， even for an hour， because

　　then the little drops of anguish¹ will all run together，

　　the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift

　　into me， choking my lost heart.

　　Oh， may your silhouette² never dissolve on the beach；

　　may your eyelids³ never flutter into the empty distance.

　　Don't leave me for a second， my dearest，

　　because in that moment you'll have gone so far

　　I'll wander mazily over all the earth， asking，

　　Will you come back？ Will you leave me here， dying？