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.