Like Smoke

MayDay - Like Smoke

This song has been a staple in my playlist ever since I found it a couple of years ago. The arrangements and the mysterious nature of my own feeble interpretation of the lyrics (yes it is marginally weak my command of said language) that really intrigued much and prompted to search high and low for the translations. I suppose things might get lost in translation as I thought then when I successfully find it; but mayhap so, the lyrics bounced back and it hit home that this is by far my most favorite Mayday song.
I've been keeping a mental note to post it here since then, but seemingly May itself has been a great joyride for me and I certainly woke up this morning and remembered about it.

I sit before the bed, looking out the window 
Spending the day in memories 
Life is a resplendent illusion, time is a thief 
Stealing everything away

When I was seven, I captured a cicada 
Thinking I could capture summer 
When I was seventeen, I kissed his face 
Thinking we would last forever

Is there really that kind of forever, forever unchanging 
The beauty we’ve once embraced never shattered 
Make rapidly passing time unable to run wild on my face 
Make the separation of life and death distant 
Can anyone hear me

I sit before the bed, turning my head to see 
Who is asleep on the pillow 
That ancient face appears to be me, tightly shut eyes

Those who once loved me, and who I loved deeply 
Are all gathered by my side 
I can’t take with me those regrets and sentiments 
they all transform into that one last tear

Is there really that kind of tear that can wash away remorse 
Transform into a rainstorm falling on a street I can’t return to 
Give me one more chance to rewrite the story 
To offer the apology I've owed him all my life

Is there really that kind of world, where the sky never goes dark 
The stars and sun and everything listens to my commands 
The moon doesn’t wax and wane, spring isn’t far away 
Twigs hold tightly onto their leaves 
Can anyone hear me

Beside my ears, before my eyes, this life is replayed again 
I came from the darkness and return to the darkness 
A lifetime, a flash, between heaven and earth 
Next time who will I be

Is there really that kind of rose that never wither 
Forever proud and perfect, forever uncompromising 
Why does life turn out to be like a scrap of paper 
Not like a flower petal that was once splendorous

Is there really that kind of bookmark that can stop on that day 
At that most innocent, smiling face and that most beautiful year 
A backpack filled with cakes and soda 
Eyes devoid of suspicion and wrong-doing, let us be outlaws

Is there really that kind of poem that doesn’t end 
Youth forever halted in our own time 
All the boys and girls have guitars and dancing shoes 
Laughing and forgetting life’s suffering, just knowing its sweetness

Is there really that kind of tomorrow that lets me live all over again 
To once again experience the yesterday I squandered 
Whether surviving or living, I won’t waste a moment 
Won’t let this story be so filled with regrets 
Can anyone hear me, I don’t want to say goodbye

I sit before the bed watching my fingertips already like smoke

(source : http://mayday.clemish.com/album/poetry-of-the-day-after/like-smoke Translations Meredith Oyen (Editor: Clement Ng)