Learn Japanese With Mrs.GREEN APPLE with these 12 Song Recommendations (Full Translations Included!)

Mrs. GREEN APPLE open this one with a little rule for life: "孤独を知って 愛を知る" (Knowing loneliness, I come to know love). You only understand love once you have been lonely. Then the logic gets sweet. "五感 働いて 君を救う" (With all five senses at work, I save you), and "それはつまり 僕も救う" (Which means I save myself too). Helping you and helping me turn out to be the same thing, because "結局僕らは人と人" (In the end, we're all just people).

The chorus is the part that sticks. "I love you の先へ" (Beyond I love you) is a lovely bit of mixed English and Japanese: の先へ means "to what comes after", so the singer wants to go further than the words "I love you". Then comes the relief of "僕はもう独りじゃないね" (I'm not alone anymore, am I). That ね at the end is a soft "right?", like he is checking with you and smiling. And "Upbeat で闇を晴らして" (Clearing away the darkness with an upbeat) is basically the song describing itself.

It is not all sunshine, though. The verse admits that "生きることのひどい痛みには意味があると信じてる" (I believe there's meaning in the awful pain of living), and the word やるせない in the next line is a great one to learn: it is that heavy, helpless, nothing-I-can-do feeling. The answer the song gives is cheerful stubbornness. "僕は僕をただ更新して" (I just keep updating myself) sounds like a phone software update, and I love that. "雨に唄ってスイングをして" (Singing in the rain and swinging along) nods to the old film Singin' in the Rain, and "希望とシェイクハンドして" (Shaking hands with hope) borrows the English "shake hand" straight into Japanese.

By the end the title makes sense: after "繭に包まれた人の夢" (A person's dream wrapped in a cocoon) and "鏡を見つめ直して" (Looking into the mirror once again), he arrives at "真新しい自分" (A brand new me). Out of the cocoon, brand new.

Mrs.GREEN APPLE take a song called "Inferno" and turn it into something surprisingly gentle. The fire here is less about punishment and more about the flame of being alive. The hook keeps coming back to one blunt idea: "永遠は無いんだと 無いんだと云フ" [they say there is no forever, there is no forever]. The first time, the singer shrugs and laughs, "それもまたイイねと笑ってみる" [I try laughing and saying that is nice too]. Later the same news hurts, and he admits "やっぱ苦しいねと泣いてみる" [it really is painful, I try crying]. I love that the song lets both reactions be true.

The verses are full of small, honest gripes. Life is safe but dull, then confusing: "知識不足故にハラハラ" [on edge from lack of knowledge]. ハラハラ is a sound word for nervous, heart-in-your-mouth worry, and earlier タラタラ describes dragging along lazily. Then comes a list every learner should steal: "学びきれずに卒業" [graduating without learning it all], "伝えきれずに失恋" [heartbreak without saying it all]. The 〜きれずに pattern means "without managing to finish". His answer is cheeky: "地獄じゃあるまいし" [it's not like this is hell], which is funny in a song named Inferno. It ends on toys and little magic as treasures, and the promise to keep walking "命の火が消えるその日まで" [until the day the fire of life goes out].

"僕のこと" ("About Me") opens with a simple question: "僕と君とでは何が違う?" (What's the difference between you and me?). The answer comes straight away: we're the same kind of creature. But the singer admits he's scared of something, and hopes everyone else is too. That small, honest wish sets the tone for the whole song. It isn't about being brave. It's about not being the only one who's struggling.

The chorus keeps saying "なんて素敵な日だ" (What a wonderful day), and it applies that to the good days and the days when dreams fall apart. I love that it doesn't pick one. Then comes the line that gives the song its weight: "僕らは知っている 奇跡は死んでいる" (We know that miracles are dead). Hard work and loneliness don't always pay off, he says. But the days you walked to get here are what people call a 軌跡 (kiseki, a path or trail). Here's the fun part for learners: 奇跡 (miracle) and 軌跡 (trail) are both read kiseki. The song swaps one for the other, so the miracle you were waiting for turns out to be the road behind you.

There's lovely imagery too, like flowers blooming in winter and "青すぎた春" (a spring that was too blue). In Japanese, 青春 (seishun, literally "blue spring") means your youth, so this is a youth that was a bit too green and clumsy, which he still never wants to forget. Look out for 足搔いている (agaite iru, struggling or flailing about), which keeps coming back. It ends gently: each of us has seen our own scenery, and living now as yourself is "とても愛しい事だ" (a very dear thing). Big, earnest, a little much in places, and that's exactly why it works.

ダンスホール is Mrs.GREEN APPLE at their most stubbornly cheerful. The whole song hangs on one big idea: "この世界はダンスホール" (this world is a dance hall). Life is the dance floor, everyone is on it, and the hook keeps promising "いつだって大丈夫" (it's always going to be okay). What makes it more than a sugar rush is that the verses admit things are not okay all the time. The singer leans too much on people who are just quietly there, suspects someone somewhere resents him, and sighs so much he lets happiness slip past, even though it was right "足元にあるもの" (at your feet) the whole time.

The second verse turns to someone chasing a dream who sometimes looks like they have lost their confidence. My favourite bit is how honest it gets: people say "無理をせず自分らしくいて" (don't push yourself, just be yourself), and the reply is basically "それが出来たら悩んでないよ" (if I could do that, I wouldn't be worrying). Then a shrug: "まぁ明日こそ笑おう" (well, let's smile tomorrow, then). There is a lovely phrase, "メンタルも成長痛を起こす" (your mind gets growing pains too), and a learner-friendly idiom in "楽しんだもん勝ちだ" (whoever enjoys it wins). By the end the dance hall belongs to someone else: "あなたが主役のダンスホール" (a dance hall where you're the star), and the singer just wants to keep dancing "足が疲れても" (even when his feet are tired).

"ケセラセラ" is Mrs. GREEN APPLE turning a shrug into a battle cry. The title is the Japanese spelling of que sera, sera, "whatever will be, will be", and the singer chants it like a daily spell: "今日も唱える" [I chant it again today]. It's less a lazy "who cares" and more a way to get through a bad day without falling apart.

The opening is pure stubbornness: "限界?上等 やってやろうか" [My limit? Bring it on, let's do this]. 上等 here is a tough-talk word meaning roughly "fine by me, come at me". Then comes a great line: "愛を捨てるほど暇じゃない" [I'm not idle enough to throw love away]. She's too busy surviving to give up on caring.

What I love is how small the comforts are. Painkillers don't fix "胸のズキズキ" [the throbbing ache in my chest] (ズキズキ is the sound-word for a pulsing pain), but a stranger's tiny kindness eases it a little. And on hard days she allows herself "ちょっとだけご褒美を" [just a little reward]. Very relatable.

The heart of the song is self-acceptance with a wink: "私を愛せるのは私だけ" [The only one who can love me is me]. Asked what she'd be if she were reborn, she answers "「また私だね」" [Me again, I guess]. She even admits she can be "自分よがり" [self-centred], which is refreshingly blunt.

There are some fun video-game touches. "はじめから" [from the beginning] and "つづきから" [continue] are the classic options on a Japanese game's start screen. Early on she wishes she could start over; by the end it's "ファンファーレ 明日も「つづきから」" [Fanfare, tomorrow I'll hit "continue" too]. ツァラトゥストラ is Zarathustra, the prophet-figure from Nietzsche's book, dropped in as a grand, slightly tongue-in-cheek nod. And the warning "ベイベー 大人になんかなるもんじゃないぞ" [Baby, being a grown-up isn't something you should do] is half joke, half sigh.

It ends right back at the title, spelled out in Japanese: "なるようになるのさ" [What will be, will be]. Not giving up, just refusing to stop: "勝てなくたっていい 負けない強さを持ちたい" [It's fine if I can't win, I want the strength not to lose].

"ダーリン" (Darling) by Mrs. GREEN APPLE is a love song with a loneliness problem. The singer keeps listing what they want: 負けない何かが欲しい [I want something that won't lose], 解けない絆が欲しい [I want a bond that can't come undone]. The idea is that if they had a love that was only theirs, they could finally stop comparing themselves to everyone else. Then the nights get honest. They lie curled up, 布団で小さくなってる [making myself small in my futon], and admit that even on a road they chose themselves, they still look back sometimes.

The chorus is the sweet part. Darling 僕の背中に乗って泳いでて [Darling, ride on my back and swim], because the sea of やるせない日々 [helpless, miserable days] is deep. Watch the pronouns here: the singer flips between 僕 (boku, a casual "I" usually used by boys) and 私 (watashi, a neutral or feminine "I"), and even puts '私' in quote marks. It reads like someone figuring out who "I" even is. My favourite moment is near the end: 私のワダカマリ [my lingering resentment, that knot inside] won't ease just because everyone feels the same, and the singer finally asks 私の私で居てもいいの? [is it okay for me to just be me?]. The answer comes straight after: あの子にはなれないし / なる必要も無いから [I can't be that girl, and I don't need to be]. Blunt, a bit self-mocking, and a great line to learn the casual ~し and ~から endings from.

Mrs. GREEN APPLE open "lulu." at the end of something: "終わりが来たら / なんて言おう" (when the end comes / what should I say). The singer wants to part "哀しくない様に" (so it isn't sad), but someone's old words still "酷く刺さってる" (sting badly) and at the same time "温かく残ってる" (stay with me, warm). That pairing of hurt and warmth is the whole song, and I love that it never picks one.

The verses are full of small, homely pictures. A 日めくりカレンダー is a tear-off calendar, one page a day, and here it keeps going while a face drifts "何故か遠くなる" (somehow further away) even though the singer says "忘れないのに" (yet I don't forget). Feelings get hidden in a hum, or swallowed while biting a lip, under a swaying lace curtain. Then the song zooms all the way out: "誰もがこの星の子孫" (everyone is a descendant of this planet), and everyone has "帰りたい場所" (a place they want to go home to). For learners, listen for the soft ね at the end of short lines like "約束はね" (the promise, you know): it is the gentle "right?" that makes the whole thing sound like a quiet talk with someone close.

This Mrs. GREEN APPLE song is about growing up and noticing it. The opening is small and honest: "苦手なものが / 平気になってさ" (the things I used to hate / don't bother me anymore), and then "ちょっぴり寂しさを知る" (I get a little taste of loneliness). That's such a real feeling. Getting used to things is supposed to be good, yet the singer feels a bit sad about it, the same way they miss "あなたが残した香り" (the scent you left behind).

The star of the song is the wind. Every chorus ends on "風はただ知っている" (the wind just knows). It invites, laughs and sings, and it quietly remembers the days you cried and "誰しもが持つ 胸のキズ" (the scars on the heart everyone carries). Notice ただ here: it means "just" or "simply", so the wind doesn't fix anything, it only knows. I find that oddly comforting.

Then the bridge drops into everyday talk: "おはよう" (good morning), "今日もいいお天気ね" (nice weather again today, isn't it), and "また明日ね バイバイ" (see you tomorrow, bye-bye). The little ね at the end asks the listener to agree, like a friendly nudge, and it's gold for learners. Between greetings come the big lines, "人が人を繋ぐ頃" (when people connect people) and "命の調べよ" (oh, the melody of life). It ends without a neat answer: "どこに向かうかはわからない / 道は続いている" (I don't know where it's heading / the road goes on).

Mrs. GREEN APPLE's "シンデレラ" (Cinderella) is a fairy-tale title on a song that is mostly a confession. The singer opens by asking herself "こんな処まで なにをしにきたんだっけ?" (what did I come all the way here to do again?) and admits the tears are already falling. Then she begs for reassurance: "ねぇ そうだよね? 答えて お願い" (hey, that's right, isn't it? answer me, please).

The dream versus the mirror

The chorus is wonderfully blunt. "いつだって 私がシンデレラ" (I'm always the Cinderella) is the fantasy, and straight after it she shrugs: "叶うはずないもの" (it's not like it could ever come true). She calls herself a liar, greedy, a coward, and someone who envies everyone, and keeps landing on "これが私だもん" (this is just who I am). That little もん at the end is a casual, slightly sulky way to give a reason, the way a kid says "because!" It makes the whole line sound defensive rather than proud.

The image I love most is "既に器はヒビ割れてる模様です" (it seems my vessel is already cracked). A 器 is a bowl or container, and in Japanese it is also a common way to talk about a person's capacity or character, so she is saying she is breaking under the effort of trying to be loved. The polite 模様です (it appears that) makes it sound like a weather report about her own heart, which is darkly funny.

Envy, named out loud

She lists exactly who she wants to be: "愛されるあの子" (that girl who is loved), "純粋なあの子" (that pure girl), "裕福なあの子" (that rich girl). Watch the wordplay too: early on she says the dream 叶う (comes true) is impossible, and later that she can never 敵う (measure up to) those girls. Both are read kanau, so the song swaps "come true" for "compete with" without changing the sound.

By the end she flips it: "この痛みこそが とても私だもん" (this pain, more than anything, is so very me), and "唯一のシンデレラ" (the one and only Cinderella). She doesn't get the glass slipper. She decides her own messy, jealous self is the main character anyway, at least "世界と死ぬまでは" (until I die along with the world). It's a bit much, and that's the point.

"ア・ポステリオリ" opens with a sneer: "笑わせないで" [don't make me laugh]. The singer has been holding it in for ages, "腹の奥底でグッと堪えてる" [biting it back deep in my gut], while watching someone who thinks they have life figured out. Over that person's head, threads are being strung everywhere, and they haven't noticed. While they are busy mocking others, "糸が絡んでる" [the threads are getting tangled]. It's a puppet image, and it is a little cruel in the best way.

The chorus is the bit that sticks: "生きる程に人は腐っていく" [the longer people live, the more they rot]. Trends fade, everything returns to nothing, and yet the narrator shrugs and calls this place "ここはパラダイス" [this is paradise] until people get bored of being human. There's a nasty little twist near the end, too: "君は言う程出来た人じゃない バレてる" [you're not as great as you claim, everyone can tell]. Then the camera turns around. Suddenly it's "瞬く度に僕は腐っていく" [every time I blink, I rot], and the last line flips the whole thing: "腐っていく中で 僕は育っていく" [while rotting, I am growing].

Word nerd corner: the title is the Latin philosophy term a posteriori, meaning knowledge you only get from experience. That fits a song whose point is that living is both what spoils you and what grows you. Also watch 気付きっこない: the ending 〜っこない is a casual way of saying "there's no way that will happen", so the line means "no way you'll notice".

共犯 means "accomplices" or "partners in crime", and Mrs.GREEN APPLE use it in a surprisingly warm way. The crime here is being human: getting hurt, hurting each other, and still holding on. The chorus line "傷を舐め合う僕らは 共犯 共犯" (we who lick each other's wounds are accomplices, accomplices) uses the idiom 傷を舐め合う, literally "licking each other's wounds". In Japanese it is a bit of a dig: it means comforting each other in a self-pitying way. The song admits that, then shrugs and calls everyone guilty together.

The best image for me is "社会というベッドに皆で眠る" (we all sleep together in a bed called society). Nobody gets real rest, as the next line says: "休まる事なんかは 無いのに 無いのに" (even though there's never any rest, never any rest). The verses are sharp too. "孤高と孤独は違うのよ" (being proudly aloof is not the same as being lonely) is a blunt little lecture, and 孤高 versus 孤独 is a great pair to learn: one is chosen solitude, the other is not.

The lyrics also mix in English loanwords written in katakana, like デスティニー (destiny), マインド (mind), アジャスト (adjust) and ベット (bet). "未来に全部ベット出来る理想が湧かない" (I can't come up with an ideal worth betting my whole future on) is a gambling metaphor, and it sits close to ベッド (bed) from earlier, which feels like a deliberate bit of wordplay. Then the ending stacks short pairs, "痛みと享楽" (pain and pleasure) and "学びと狂乱" (learning and frenzy), before landing on "僕らは共犯" (we are accomplices). It is cynical about the world and still oddly tender about the people in it.

Lilac is a song about getting older on an ordinary morning commute, and I love how unglamorous it lets itself be. The singer is on platform three waiting for a semi-express train, groggy and a little sick of himself, and he sums up the season as "すっぱい春とライラック" (a sour spring and lilac). Not sweet, not tragic. Sour. That one word does a lot of work.

The early verses play with a pun you would miss in translation: dust is 埃 (hokori) and pride is 誇り (hokori), so the old memories at the back of the shelf are covered in dust yet still shine with pride. Then the self-mockery kicks in. He thought of himself as "主人公の候補" (a candidate for main character), but now feels like a role with no name, one that would not even get a spin-off. That is a very funny and very sad line at the same time.

The middle gets blunt. "夜が嫌い" (I hate the night) and "君が嫌い" (I hate you) arrive with no softening at all, followed by "優しくなれない僕です" (I'm someone who can't be kind). It is a sulky little tantrum, and the song does not pretend it is anything nobler.

What turns it around is the image of rain: "雨が降るその後に" (after the rain falls) green things grow, so maybe nothing is meaningless. By the end he goes from wanting to love himself to "愛せてる" (I'm able to love myself), a small grammar shift from trying to actually doing it. Learners, watch that ending: 愛してる is "I love", while 愛せてる uses the potential form, "I'm able to love". Fittingly, the whole song is about that gap.