Maybe my love is found
where it gathers its feet
the rainbow;
maybe it's there
and there waits for me
a cute boy
made from mists.
That's why I always go out when it rains
and I hope that the rainbow appears,
for maybe it's true,
that on its feet
love is found,
on top of a white cloud.
That's why I'm sad
when it rains and
maybe,
... Maybe it's love a rainbow.
