There comes Winter's cold roar,
And makes the ringlets soar
All in the icy air,
Caressing all the hair.
Embraced by a warm coat,
Protecting a cold throat,
The air is veiled by mist,
And the bright sun is missed.
How beautiful is this view!
How beautiful are you!

I see a rosaceous sunset view,
Turning slowly to night so blue.

Sounds of day change into night;
Sunlight replaced by neon light.

In the air, there is summer's breeze,
Unlocking many memories.

Everywhere I look I see smiles,
All dressed up in different styles.

Beautiful faces on bright screens,
Displaying stars, products and scenes.

I stare in the pink mists of love,
To the glowing faces above.

Each place I go I hear echoes,
As the chilling summer breeze blows.

I walk around in these places,
And encounter many faces.

Someone is sunken in their phone,
While smiling, standing all alone.

I see the city's blood; racing cars,
Shooting off like luminous stars.

From inside and outside chaos,
Sugarcoated in lavish gloss.

Colorful as Harajuku,
Or shining like Shinjuku.

So much people to speak and greet,
On every corner of this street.

But no time left to say hello,
When everyone does quickly go.

Would one of them have time for me?
Their true face, will I ever see?

I guess not; let's keep them in dreams,
Where they are adorned with moony gleams.

Where would they be, the sweet lovers,
In streets? In the breeze of summers?

It does not really matter much,
I can see the trace of their touch.

How else would this city be lit?
There's love! It's darkened without it.

I'm curious what lies behind,
Those rose filled meadows of your mind.

Your languid eyes are shaped like an almond,
Your complexion is like the moon so pale,
Who could not to my figure be likened,
Who's between people and people a veil.
And your speech is in a different tongue,
Veiling the layers of our deep voices,
Making us deaf to hear our true song,
Freezing us in our ignorant choices.
But don't you smell, hear, feel and see like me?
Don't you become saddened and cry like me?
Don't you strive to become happy like me?
Don't you become tired and sigh like me?
  No matter which label, black, white, Asian;
  We all emerge from the same Origin.

I've used the gifts of eyes too much,
On delights who can't feel my touch,
Nor can feel my sighs, nor my voice,
Nor my sorrow, and nor my joys.

I've wasted too much hand movements,
Too much ink, too much days and nights
Writing their names on blank pages,
While I did not expect replies.

Wherever I see a harsh or dry sight,
All the love they carry my hands sprinkle,
Sometimes in sunlight, sometimes in moonlight,
When I'm able to, little by little.
When I am like the fresh flowers of youth,
Or when I am like ripe stems of old age,
No matter which one, it's a solid truth
That I will always write down love on each page.
I write it down unto my blank paper,
I pour it down into my own music,
I present it for free to each taker,
And tell it with eloquence's magic.
  Each song, each verse, each fragrance and move,
  Is all solely for the sake of sweet love.

On a cloudy Autumn day rain is the weather.
A blossom petal on the wet streets of Gion.
The soothing sounds of Koto in the theater.
A walking Geisha on the wet streets of Gion.

A soft kiss by the wind blows the petal away,
All elegantly through the wet streets of Gion.
The Geisha sings a song to cheer up this sad day,
Sings elegantly through the wet streets of Gion.