What a strange thing! to be alive beneath cherry blossoms.
Never forget: we walk on hell, gazing at flowers.
In the cherry blossom's shade there's no such thing as a stranger.
Summer night-- even the stars are whispering to each other.
In this world We walk on the roof of hell Gazing at flowers
before the gate -- my walking stick's made a river of melting snow
This dewdrop world Is but a dewdrop world And yet —
