The familiar street sparkles in the twilight
This whistling, riding on the wind, must reach you

A black smoke rises high in the distance
The flame has burned out, the sun will take you from here

Your heart resounds and sways even in the distant road home
Wind of gold, caressing your cheek
It must be morning soon

The shadows reflected in the evening become very long
And pile up onto each other, visiting the night
I want the clock to hurry up, until I can meet you
Earth, rotate just a little faster

Those resurrected summer days
Your long shadow, separating into the distance
I was always watching you, in tears
I want the clock to hurry up, until I can meet you
Earth, rotate just a little faster

...The flame has burned out
The familiar street sparkles in the twilight

Wind of gold... Wind of gold