- Cherry Blossom -

I do recall the year, it was early in the spring,
The sun was on high, looking ever splendidly...
When we went to the gardens, there to sing.
The pond where the swans swam elegantly...
Was clear as a mirror, reflecting the blue skies,
Near the fields where at night blazed fireflies.
The small path along it with the old wood rail,
Wound near some rugged cliffs we knew well.
And so, around the pond we found our way...
To the gardens, where we spent that fair day.

The hills were tall, the flagstones at our feet...
Were ancient and cracked, retaining the heat.
My sandals did not notice, as I walked along...
Whilst we went to gardens, singing our song.
The cherry blossoms were in bloom, in season,
And the tiny shrines stood so solemn nearby...
The maidens tended them for faithful reason,
For gods and ancestors they could never deny.
Pretty as the cherry blossoms along the path,
Past the pond that was the swans' cool bath.

We sat near the fountains, without any care,
Looking at the cherry trees all around there...
Watching the maidens in their sweet devotion,
Letting the hours pass like drops in the ocean.
Somewhere, a bell tower called out the time...
But we were singing, and so lost in the rhyme!
Only the Buddhist statues, did smile so wide...
As our hearts once did, where blossoms reside.
Still do those trees grow, and so every spring,
Do their blossoms blow, and so much joy bring!

As night came down and the fireflies did dance,
We walked in the woods where tall pines grew.
There, where old spirits awaken and do prance,
We said farewell to the day and to skies blue...
For the stars did herald a night of no less glory,
Than the day which I related early in this story.
By now the shrine maidens were saying prayers,
And the monks were walking along lonely stairs.
They saw not the wonders of the world like we,
As the night winds bring us each to our destiny.