With the book I borrowed in one hand,
I walk along the sidewalk by the river.
Two more pages and I’ll get to the ending.
I don’t want to know what lies ahead.

A boy riding on a goose’s back
flies on and on toward the north.
His buddy is a goose named Molten.
That’s the novel I’m reading.

Goodbye, Molten.
We used to try and see if we could fly.
We opened our arms and jumped high,
knowing that nothing would happen.

Goodbye, Molten.
You laughed as you rolled over.
Catching a faint smell of earth,
I almost got choked up inside.
Summer was already there.

With sadness as an asset,
I walk along the street in early summer.
Two more pages and I’ll get to the ending.
I don’t want to know what lies ahead yet.

Chasing you who got slightly taller,
I would run toward our favorite hill.
Just like a goose flying in the sky,
we would open up our arms.

Goodbye, Molten.
We still tried to see if we could fly
just because we didn’t want to know that we were not special.
Goodbye, Molten.
You laughed as you rolled over,
looking like you had no idea
that we were growing up.
Summer was already there.

You’d grow even taller.
Someday you’d be far away.
We’d get separated little by little
like growing branches.

With the faded book in one hand,
I walk along the street I used to know.
From that hill, I’m a few hundred steps away.
I see someone standing there.

Goodbye, Molten.
I notice you were still trying to fly
with bright eyes, just like the way you used to be.

Goodbye, Molten.
I think I know now, because we can’t fly, we’re precious all the more.
A faint smell, I almost get choked up inside.
You’ve been watching me
with a smile that had never faded.
Summer is already here.

With the faded book in one hand,
I walk along the sidewalk by the river.
One more page and I’ll get to the ending.
Now I turn the last page.
Goodbye, Molten.