His eyes reap lightning,
His sight sparks light.
The graceful, noble warrior,
Sits, resting, in delight.

The cherry flowers fall for him,
Crowning him the victor.
He fought and fought well,
To enjoy this liquor.

To some it is bitter,
To others, it is sweet.
For him, the taste is abstract,
A taste that reaps melancholy.

Longer is now the road to home,
Because of his injuries,
Longer is the road to death,
Because he is now crowned victor,
The liquor tastes like nothing now,
But simple, soothing freedom.

There's that small refuge we always had,
Hidden between the old willow trees,
Where sparrows, swallows and magpies,
Rest their tired, restless wings.

How we always met there,
Is a secret just between you and me,
And the sparrows, and the swallows,
And the old willow trees.

A sacred feeling bound us,
When we held our hands,
The wind always conspired in our favor,
When leaves were magnetized in your hair,
Giving you unparalleled beauty,
Giving you vibrant color,
That not even painters could dream.

I am now alone,
The snow drowns my weeps,
The willow trees are sleeping
And the sparrows,
And the swallows,
And the magpies,
Are nowhere to be seen.

For sure, our love was pure,
And for certain, I shall see you again
When the cold wind stops its cries,
When you will awake the sleeping willow trees,
And when the sparrows,
And when the swallows,
And when the magpies,
Will rest their restless wings again.

Standing by a crystal lake,
With the surface as still as time,
I gazed into the reflection's soul,
The same time it stared into mine.

As the moon fell down the sky,
As slow as an autumn leaf,
It crept its way into the painting,
Making the two of us feel complete.

A gush of wind suddenly came,
Revealing the fragility of our bond,
Leaving the both of us,
Simple vagabonds.

Conceding, I walk away,
On a path only by me explored,
Whether our fates will ever cross again,
Nor you or I will ever know.

The wind is gushing again,
Disturbing the serenity of willows,
They sing, and sing again,
About the love they just witnessed.

With sparks in his eyes,
And his sight fierce as a tiger,
The warrior can finally relax,
After strife as ripe as thunder.

His mind endlessly rewinds,
Images of his beautiful sword play,
That come as fast,
As cherry blossoms like to end.

He is not happy nor sad,
Or at least, that's what he would say,
But despite his injuries,
He can fight another day.

He can't tell when his end will come,
Cherry blossoms wash away his worries,
With an endless cup of wine in his hands,
He waits for his well earned glory.

I was drawn into the silence,
Like a carrot draws a hare,
I can't hear it,
Nor can I see it,
I simply know it's there.

The oaks let me know of a secret path,
They move and make me way,
Because we share the pain of silence,
The pain that will never go away.

I arrived to a lake of silence,
Where frogs sing their agony,
Where leaves float, far apart,
Where willows hide their apathy.
I stare into the surface.
A humble reflection stares back at me.
We understand each other,
For we both know,
Silence in agony.

I can hear you calling out to me,
Like a sailor hears the cries of the sea,
Like a seagull, or like a sparrow,
In the warmth of the sea breeze.

There are no trees, nor snow,
So I don't know what time it is,
The sand is eternal,
But for the traces it leaves.

I can hear your cries again,
And I cannot resist no more.

So please embrace me,
I am yours!
Have some mercy,
Before we go,
Let me hear the roar of the sea,
Once more.