Moonlit by Naniwa Danshi is a sweet, wide-eyed crush song, and it does not pretend to be anything cooler than that. The singer touches someone's cheek and just stares, then admits he can't even read his own feelings until a friend points them out. That little jolt of wait, is this true? is the whole engine of the first verse.
The central image is the evening moon (宵の月, yoi no tsuki, the moon you see early in the night), twinkling and swaying the way his thoughts do. Watch for the soft sound words きらり (kirari, a sparkle) and ゆらり (yurari, a gentle sway): Japanese pop loves these, and a plain translation flattens them. He brags a bit too, saying he could find her straight away even if she hid in an empty amusement park, like magic. It is a little much, and that is the charm.
The details are lovely and specific: out-of-season fireworks, bittersweet chocolate, and the moment he can't manage to say goodbye, waves at her back, and she turns around. By the end the night is over and he is asking the moon not to fade, because he wants to keep gazing. The English hooks about love being a treasure are simple, but the Japanese lines underneath are where the real feeling lives.