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.