微温(ぬる)い丈(だけ)の　疵(きず)に　泥(こひじ)を　塗(ぬ)り籠(こ)み 逝(ゆ)き損(そこ)ねし　斎(いみ)を　瞼(まぶた)に　重(かさ)ぬ 無数(むすう)に　散(ち)らばる　摘(つ)み取(と)りし　腫物(しゅもつ)に 憫(あわ)れびは　無(な)く　只(ただ)　そと　羨(とも)しびて 為合(しあ)うとても　せざる　受(う)け太刀(だち)　風(ふり)　すら 構(かま)えの侭(まま)　絶(た)える　音(おと)も　無(な)く 屠(ほふ)る毎(ごと)に　手馴(たな)る　血振(ちぶる)い　否(いや)む　故(から) 其(そ)の　手(て)を　下(お)ろして 振(ふ)りかぶれば　落(お)ちる　私(わたし)は　神鳴(かみなり) 生(い)きあぐねし　道(みち)が　亦(また)　血(ち)で　烟(けぶ)る 末魔(まつま)の　的(ゆくは)は　瞑(ひし)ぐとも　逸(そ)らさぬ 突(つ)けば　竭(つ)く迄(まで)　只(ただ)　其(そ)の　灯火(ともしび)と 為合(しあ)うとても　せざる　受(う)け太刀(だち)　風(ふり)　すら 構(かま)えの侭(まま)　絶(た)える　音(おと)も　無(な)く 屠(ほふ)る毎(ごと)に　手馴(たな)る　血振(ちぶる)い　否(いや)む　故(から) 其(そ)の　手(て)を　下(お)ろして 此(こ)の　身空(みそら)が　打(う)たれたい 尽(つ)きせぬ　修羅(しゅら)にて　独(ひと)り笑(え)む　なれど 為敢(しあ)うとても　畢(おわ)ること無(な)き　不離(ふり)　修羅(すら) 名乗(なの)る迄(まで)も　無(な)いとしても　抑(そも)　名前(なまえ)は無(な)い 動(うご)けば　無益(むえき)な　毀傷(きしょう)が　痛(いた)い　故(から) 其(そ)の　儘(まま)　討(う)たれて　棹立(さおだ)ち

Smearing mud on my scars that are merely trivial I lay the taboo of my survival over my eyelids (1) For the picked boils that lay scattered about by the thousands There is no sense of pity, only silent jealousy Should we fight, I will not defend, not even a swing You will die in your stance, without a sound I detest it how I grow accustomed to shaking off the blood of my sword every time I slay Therefore, lower your hand Held aloft, I come down, I am a thunderbolt The road I am tired of living is again sprayed with blood I will not miss the targeted vital spot even with my eyes shut (2) I will just have to stab until the end, merely with that light Should we fight, I will not defend, not even a swing You will die in your stance, without a sound I detest it how I grow accustomed to shaking off the blood of my sword every time I slay Therefore, lower your hand I want this body to be stricken down Though I smile alone amid eternal carnage Should I accomplish it, endless inseparability, carnage You say there is no need to state my name, but I do not have one in the first place Because the futile injuries ache if I move Be killed right there, standing bolt upright