I'll tell you the secrets when the hay is dried up;

I'll tell you the secrets,
but not now.
not until the hay is dried up.

Those words you murmured ,
and promises we made,
ah,
they are like the Sun.
Cheering all the days we've been through.

A year has passed,
four more to go.
Can we survive for these few years?
I wish so;
Let fate fares us.