Far away from any other land a kingdom arose from ocean sand Their hearts of steel and armor of wood They defended their people for no appeal and sought honor where they could A warrior of the Shogun and the Emperor of the divine winds and fallen spirits
Far in the future when the blade was almost out paced 500 warriors stood in the face of an imperial rise Sword to gun, surely to be overrun, one last charge To preserve their way at shiroyama
There the warriors of old died, but not completely For nothing dies eternally And far in the future a group of warriors Known as Sakurakai Under Hashimoto thousands of chests stood ready to die, for their emperor
A clash and battle Chests scattered like cherry blossoms And when the dust settled Hashimoto was gone For in Sugamo he was forced and there he died.
A simple poem i wrote in my middle class today about the Showa Restoration