My friend told me
When the spring wind blows.
We can see a witch.
“Does a witch really exist?”
“She does!”
“Because my mother is a witch.”
“You’re a liar.”
“It’s true.”
“it’s very easy
To fly through the sky.”
Someday,
About the huge moon night,
While we were looking at the moon
From the window,
We were standing the sand of Arizona spring.
We were standing on the sand that has nothing
And looking at the sand that has nothing
And looking at the moon.
We only found one.
We plucked a dry grass
And we came back immediately.
That grass we brought back
Has a warm smell
That I’ve never smelled.
The witch
Put it in a bottle
And kept it importantly.
“Is it very important?”
I asked.
“Next to you,
It’s my vision.”
She said.
I don’t understand.
The witch went somewhere
And hasn’t come back since.
So, I can’t ask.

My friend that told me so
Always shared her secrets.
We can’t make
Secrets by ourselves.
If there is a person
Who can hide each other’s secrets,
A secret will be born.
If we have the same secret,
I prefer a big one.
I’m tired of human talk.
Are you a witch, too?
You always visited from nowhere.
The magical words that you wrote
On the ground.
Please tell me again.
Having a secret is
Similar to obtaining treasures of the world.
She told me so.
My friend is no longer here.
The witch story that she flies in the spring wind.
The small witch story
That she walks playing tricks.
She punishes mean fellows.
She is always spiteful.
Talk to me about the wonderful witch story.
The magical song written on the inside of the hat.
That song I finally learned.
I can’t remember it anyway.
The mysterious song.
Sing with me.
And,
Let me keep a secret again.