THE 🦅 FRONTIER

　 “ THE FRONTIER ” 乾いた風が大地を削り 赤い夕陽は荒野の端に沈んでいく 1860年代後半 南北戦争の余韻が残り 鉄路が大陸を切り開く 鉱山を掘り 黒人も移民も農夫も 汗と血を大地に捧ぐ 毎日、毎日 ボルトを枕木に打ち込み 石炭の街が芽を出し 銀行が金の匂いを放つ 掘るより盗む方が早い 無法者は砂塵を蹴り上げて駆け抜け 星形バッジの男たちが追う 酒場のピアノ　銃声の響き 女たちの笑い声が夜を飾る その喧騒の裏で 給金少なく、秩序を守る影 やがて夜の荒野を抜け 遠い牧場では 月明かりの群れをカウボーイが見張る 鞭を鳴らし、牛を追い 焚き火に照らされ、古い歌を口ずさむ 埃と孤独をまといながら 鞭とロープと馬を誇りに 星空に故郷の影を探し 自由を鞍に、過去を胸に 彼らは荒野の息子だった だが 鉄路が大陸を貫いたとき その歌声は風に溶け 夕陽とともに遠い伝説となる それでも その魂は今も荒野をさまよい 地平線の果てで、われらの胸に響く 　 　 "THE FRONTIER" A dry wind carves the earth, A red sunset sinks at the edge of the wilderness. Late 1860s. The Civil War still lingers. The railroads carve a continent. Digging mines. Black people, immigrants, and farmers alike. Devoting their sweat and blood to the earth. Day after day. Drilling bolts into railroad ties. Coal towns sprout. Banks smell of money. Stealing is easier than digging. Outlaws kick up dust as they run. Men wearing star badges pursue them. The sound of gunfire echoes through the saloon piano. Women's laughter brightens the night. Behind the hustle and bustle, Low wages and the shadow of order are maintained. Finally, through the night wilderness. On a distant ranch. Cracking their whips, they drive cattle. By the light of the campfire, they hum old songs. Covered in dust and loneliness, Proud of their whips, ropes, and horses, Searching for the shadow of their homeland in the starry sky, With freedom in their saddle and the past in their hearts, They were sons of the wilderness. But when the railroad cut through the continent, Their song melted into the wind, And with the setting sun, they became a distant legend. But even now, Their spirits still wander the wilderness, And at the end of the horizon, they resonate in our hearts.