The golden rays fallen from the sky,
feed the young shoots wet by the rain.
Ghostly but superficial,
I admire and envy them.
They are life, the very existence.
An open treasure, a pure and eternal essence.
And it's up to me, to grasp them, grasp all of them...
...and let none escape.
Nature spreads its wings, like every time...
...in its time loop.
And it's up to me to make it last, to capture the essential eternity.
Once upon a time... there was a little girl between life and death and winter and spring...
A strange enigma, a spirit that goes against the current...
"Myon, Myon, Myon!"
Under the moon, the four o'clock flowers* shiver when I pick them one by one. (*Beauty of the night in french)
In my heart, their beauty isn't worth the one of the great cherry trees...
"Myon, Myon, Myon!"
Between the may bells, a swan's song resonates.
Mysterious, muffled...
...makes winter leave room for the summer.
The sunny canopies...
...the lichen and the moss under my feet.
During each hour of the day, there a bit more to gather...
The taste of the dew pearls, the ferns so soft at the touch...
...I absorb them, discover them with artificial photosynthesis.
When the evening will come, it will be cold, it will be dark...
However in the dead of the night, behind the narcissistic veil of her troubles...
...the day is coming.
Tomorrow, on the sunny hill...
...the pink tree will be open at the morning.
To awaken the souls of the dead,
so they can dance this year again, under the cherry trees.
Under the moon, the will bloom one by one...