Strayed in the
Appeared for rescue.
Sun stops not for twilight to shine
Nor abysmal darkness to wane.
Moon stops not for hasten waves to tender
Nor licentious dreams to render.
Spring stops not for lazy lilies to bloom
Nor lone nightingales to gloom.
Life stops not for sparkling memories to return
Nor cupid desires to spurn.
Death stops not for none to mop a life
Nor some to cleave their strife.
Time stops not for puerile minds to wonder
Nor sapient sages to ponder.
swift breeze rolling waves
bamboo flutists trying notes -
symphony in air.
Golden strings of life singing exuberance of birth
Silver strings of death ringing grievance of fate
Between life and death wandered cotton clouds
Shedding shine of sun or pouring useless tears
Winding mysteries of labyrinths lying ahead
Waiting to tread to a denizen of paradise
O man, your frenzied footsteps of lies sure ‘ll fail
When the holy glimpse of truth in the florid firmament.
Wake! Kokura to a novel world of peace
Under the canopy of dark divine clouds
A million deaths and a zillion days of sufferings
Ah! Flown to a distant land
While the holy hands patting your shoulders
Away Nagasaki crying,
… a loud ghostly cry..
When the fat boy shed fireballs from above
Flitting shadows unable to find a cwtch
Death solidified, melted to florid streams
On a boundless billowy sea of hellfire.
Murky minds killing unknown souls
Burnt alive was innocent, wicked and wise
On their knees, a nation bend
Away victory cried,
… a loud cheerful cry…
Ah! Know me first before you please
to squander guns, grenades or guillotines
At least the cognizant me die in peace,
And a better predilection for your choicest blessings.
Silent guns are a hackneyed dream
Begging only for a better aim
Away hope loath to stop,
.. a loud wishful cry…
Rabble of butterflies, fluttering on.
come to me.
Play with me,
sing my soft purr,
Roll with blissful wind's gentle euouae.
Death is not your aim, Life is not for fame
Between lines of nature’s rhyme,
Luck is not the same.
Mouth is not to mime, lust and luster’s chime
Beggar’s garb on dame,
Why the heart not flame?
Tin of humanity shame, opened loud to blame
Without having the brame,
Uttered vanity claim.
Time is not to tame, minds of ruthless lame
Do your little dime,
Not for name or acclaim.