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 don’t know their names But more than anyone, I know them In joy and in sorrow I’ve gazed up at this sky countless times You can’t understand it just by what’s 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 don’t 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 won’t see it broadcast on TV or playing on the radio But surely, there is something precious here It’s 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 don’t 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 That’s the treasure of the islanders That’s the treasure of the islanders That’s the treasure of the islanders