A long time ago, a man named Michio,
Lived among the Momiji and Matsu.
Just living his life, with his son and his wife,
Always keeping in his pocket his nunchaku.
Michio possessed the strength of three men,
And everything he always sees.
But as the saying goes, even for Michio,
'Even monkeys fall from trees'.
Now Michio knew that his nunchaku,
Would keep him safe and sound.
Until one night he had quite a fright,
And jumped three feet off the ground.
This bold man shrunk from six foot to three,
And his stomach churned with fear.
His rough hands start sweating; he didn’t know what to do,
But he hoped his nunchaku was near.
Michio made a mistake and nothing could help,
There was nothing that he could see.
This brave great man became a monkey today,
And even he, fell from a tree.

In the sands of time,
the red beat,
almost at the end,
of this end.

For not wanting to see .....
What else will be lost?
By those hands ....
What else have you not touched?

There is a horizon,
There,
all around,
the summits of life.

Of the event,
of those hands,
the power to see from behind,
and contemplate the infinite.

I would like a more flowery dress,
and some less sinister clouds .....