Like snow
melting softly on pine needles,
like dew calling forth the spring blossoms—
that is how I wish to live.
Becoming spring rain
that flows like lifeblood through the dry embankments,
rolling and slipping on shimmering leaves—
and even when breaking into white laughter.
We are flowers
that bloom in humble places.
With a chest charred black yet standing on tiptoe
along the late path home,
a glowing lantern smiling brightly—
the flower of life.
A lotus blooming in the midsummer mud.
Like a lantern that lights up the darkness,
gathering even the reflected light
of unripe fruit,
I will breathe gently upon the remaining sweetness
with all the passion I have left.
