群青 Gunjou

Ah, in the usual way...

The sighing 嗚呼 and いつもの様に make the opening sound routine and already familiar.

The days pass by, and a yawn slips out.

The opening mood is boredom and drift, not inspiration.

Crossing another noisy night, today as well...

さんざめく suggests bustle, glitter, or noisy liveliness.

Morning falls over the streets of Shibuya.

A poetic use of 降る (*furu*), as if dawn were weather.

Somehow hollow-feeling...

This is a fragment rather than a full sentence, so it lands before the syntax fully resolves.

...that sort of feeling.

Very compressed. The speaker is naming a mood rather than building a full sentence.

This is dull.

な adds reflective force rather than direct address here.

But that is fine.

This short acceptance line matters because it comes before any explicit resolve or encouragement language.

That’s just how it is.

もん is colloquial for もの. The tone is casual, almost shrugging.

This is fine too.

The repetition matters: the speaker steadies themself before the song turns toward expression.

Without even realizing it, I had been hiding it away.

知らず知らず suggests something done unconsciously over time.

Come on, let your true voice ring out.

This is a key turn from concealment language toward expression language.

Even if you pretend not to see it...

A familiar YOASOBI motif: refusal to look does not erase what is there.

...it is definitely there.

Very plain grammar, but the wording is firm and declarative.

Ah, to draw just as I feel.

感じたままに means following feeling directly, without correction or self-censorship.

With that colour I chose for myself.

The color imagery is artistic, but also about identity and agency.

Into a morning wrapped in sleepy air...

纏う feels more literary than a plain verb like 着る or まとう in everyday prose.

...there came a blue world.

群青 names an actual shade of blue, but in the song it also works as a repeated image-word rather than only a literal color label.

To say that what you love is what you love.

The wording is direct and unadorned. Saying attachment this plainly matters after the earlier concealment language.

It is terrifying, and there’s no helping that, but...

仕方ない here means “it cannot be helped”. The line balances fear and persistence.

My true self...

A suspended phrase that resolves in the next line.

...I felt like I had finally met it.

気がした softens the claim: it is an inner realization, not a flat statement of fact.

Ah, the more I reach out my hand...

〜ば〜ほど sets up a “the more... the more...” relationship.

...the farther away it goes.

A simple line, but it sharply captures frustration: effort does not guarantee closeness.

Today too, things do not go the way I want...

思うようにいかない is a very useful everyday pattern: “not go as one hopes”.

...and once again I am struggling frantically.

もがく suggests flailing, struggling, or fighting without ease.

Even the frustrated feeling just turns pathetic...

情けない can mean pitiable, miserable, or disappointing in a self-directed way.

...and tears come out.

Very plain wording. That simplicity makes the emotion feel unforced.

The deeper I step in, the more painful it becomes.

踏み込む here is both literal and figurative: to commit more deeply.

It starts to hurt as well.

The added も gives an accumulative sense: not just difficult, but painful too.

Ah, to keep going just as I feel.

This echoes line 15, but now the verb is 進む rather than 描く: action, not only expression.

Along this road I chose for myself.

The self-chosen path mirrors the self-chosen colour from the earlier chorus.

On nights when I rub my heavy eyelids...

A physically tired image. The song stays grounded in effort and fatigue.

...there is the blue vow I clung to.

しがみつく implies clinging desperately, not simply holding.

To keep doing what you love.

The nominalized phrase sounds almost like a principle or lesson.

That is not just something enjoyable.

だけじゃない is an important everyday pattern: “not just / not only”.

Can I really do it...?

The lyric leaves the subject implicit, which is common in Japanese. The line works as a reflective question even without naming the speaker directly.

...I get anxious, but...

A classic YOASOBI turn: fear is acknowledged, but not allowed to have the last word.

Ah, as many times as it takes, look, as many pages as it takes...

何枚でも literally counts sheets or pages, which fits the song’s art-making frame.

It is because I lacked confidence that I kept drawing.

A key line: effort comes not after confidence, but because confidence is absent.

Ah, as many times as it takes, look, as many times as it takes...

The repetition turns persistence into rhythm.

What I have steadily built up becomes my weapon.

武器 here is figurative: the accumulated work becomes one’s strength or advantage.

Even if I look around me, even if I compare myself with anyone else...

〜たって is conversational and concessive here: “even if...”.

...what is it that only I can do?

しか〜ない marks exclusivity: “nothing but / only”.

Even now, it is not like I have confidence. Even so...

なんか downplays the noun with a slightly dismissive feel: “something like confidence”.

Feelings I had never felt before.

The phrase stays noun-like, stacking emotion as a thing newly discovered.

Feelings I had lived without knowing.

A compact way of saying these feelings were present before they were consciously recognized.

By stepping out on that day...

踏み出す often marks a decisive first move into something new.

...all of this pain I felt for the first time as well.

Here pain is paired with awakening vocabulary, so the line does not frame it only as damage or failure.

By facing what I love directly...

向き合う is stronger than simply “look at”; it suggests fully confronting or engaging with something.

...I touched a light that is still small.

The light is deliberately small here. The wording stays with a modest image rather than switching to something grander.

It is okay. Let’s go. From here on, all that remains is to enjoy it.

A striking reset in tone: reassurance, invitation, and release from paralysis.

Ah, I draw, staking everything on it.

賭けて raises the stakes again, but now with more confidence than before.

With a colour that only I can bring out.

出せない here means “cannot produce/bring forth,” not merely “cannot put out”.

Running on through morning and night...

The continuative feel suggests sustained effort rather than a single burst.

...I found and brought out a blue light.

見つけ出す is stronger than plain 見つける: to manage to discover, to bring into view.

To face what I love directly.

The phrase returns as a statement of principle, no longer just part of a longer sentence.

Even now, it is still something frightening, but...

だって adds insistence: even now, even at this point, fear has not vanished.

I am no longer now the transparent self I was that day.

透明な僕 suggests a self that was faint, invisible, or undefined.

Ah, as I am...

This suspended phrase sets up the closing affirmation.

...I am irreplaceable.

かけがえの無い means “irreplaceable; beyond substitution.” It is one of the song’s clearest statements of self-worth.

Without even realizing it, I had been hiding it away.

This returns to earlier wording, but now it appears after more explicit self-description and commitment language.

Come on, let your true voice ring out.

By this point the repeated wording functions more like affirmation than first discovery.

Even if you pretend not to see it...

The lyric repeats its earlier challenge: refusal to look does not erase reality.

It is definitely there, even now, still right there.

The repetition of そこに intensifies the insistence: the true self or true voice is present, not abstract.

Without even realizing it, I had been hiding it away.

The second repetition gives the ending a chant-like, self-addressing force.

Come now, let your true voice ring out.

さあ pushes the invitation forward more strongly than ほら; it feels like a final urging into action.

Even if you pretend not to see it...

The final repetition makes the main claim unmistakable.

It is definitely there, inside you.

The final shift to 君の中に turns the wording outward: what was discovered in the self is now directed toward the listener too.