Softly I ask the flower, eyes with tear:
“When will the winter leave?”
She speaks of silence,
And joins the northward wind

At the tunnel’s end,
I see the snow country.
Heavy bough bends
Then breaks abruptly.

January’s Sakura,
Stands in the court yard.
Sweet scent drifting,
To Honden’s guard.

Fourteen is Izu’s dancer.
Singing in Shinto’s garden.
Leaving a heart without answer,
For she askes of beauties olden.

Awake to snow’s calling
I hear the petals falling
The flower at midnight
Yet asleep

Our unfamiliar encounter
At the corner of the street
Clueless
stillness in gaze

This is where we first met
I remember
Stars overhead tangled
Like fate

You are my great undoing in the final act
Who reveal the secret murders committed
By me in the scene before. I, feel ashamed
hope that I can redeem myself,
Like protagonists always do in a fairy tale.

Alas! we are not in such a play- no,
the unhappy ending (for whatever you touch is spoiled)
was destined for me, to die, to sleep
in the dreamless slumber!
(Merciless is you, my darling; restless is my heart)

I must confess my sins (not those secrets you think
you have discovered) to the audience: I fear not
their judgement (my stage is the whole of a world)

You are my undoing (you have undone what I
have not yet done).