Shimanchu-nu Takara

A relaxing, classic song by the Okinawan band BEGIN. In simple words, the song perfectly expresses the complex emotions about island living.

Boku ga umareta kono shima no sora o
Boku wa dore kurai shite iru n darou

Kagayaku hoshi mo nagareru kumo mo
Namae o hikaretemo wakaranai

Demo dare yori dare yori mo shite iru
Kanashii toki mo ureshii toki mo
Nando mo miagete ita kono sora o

Kyoukashou ni kaite aru koto dake ja wakaranai
Taisetsu na mono ga kitto koko ni aru hazu sa
Sore ga shimanchu nu takara

Boku ga umareta kono shima no umi o
Boku wa dore kurai shite iru n darou

Yogerete KUSANGO mo hette yuku sakana mo
Doushitara ii naka wakaranai

Demo dare yori dare yori mo shite iru
Suna ni mamirete nami ni yurarete
Sukoshi zutsukawatte yuku kono umi o

TEREBI de wa utsuzusenai RAJIO demo nagasenai
Taisetsu na mono ga kitto koko ni aru hazu sa
Sore ga shimanchu nu takara

Boku ga umareta kono shima no uta o
Boku wa dore kurai shite iru n darou

TUBARAMA mo DENSAA bushi mo
Kotoba no imi sae wakaranai

Demo dare yori dare yori mo shite iru
Iwai no yoru mo matsuri no asa mo
Doko kara ga kikoete kuru kono uta o

Itsu no hi ka kono shima o hanareteku sono hi made
Taisetsu na mono motto fukaku shite itai
Sore ga shimanchu n takara
English translation:

How well do I know
These island skies that I was born under

The shining stars, the passing clouds
Even if you ask me, I donít know their names

But more than anyone, I know them
In joy and in sorrow
Iíve gazed up at this sky countless times

You canít understand it just by whatís written in a textbook
Surely, there is something precious here
That is the treasure of the islanders

How well do I know
The seas of the island where I was born

The wounded reefs and dwindling fish
I donít know what to do about them either

But more than anyone, I know
Caressed by the sand, tossed by the waves
This ocean that keeps changing little by little

You wonít see it broadcast on TV or playing on the radio
But surely, there is something precious here
Itís the treasure of the islanders

How well do I know
The songs of this island where I was born

The Tubaraama, and the Densaa Bushi,
I donít even know the meaning of the words

But, more than anyone, I know
On celebration nights and festival mornings
The songs that drift over me from somewhere far

Until that someday when I part from this island
I want to understand the precious things here more deeply
Thatís the treasure of the islanders

Thatís the treasure of the islanders
Thatís the treasure of the islanders

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