Sitting under a sakura tree
I wish I had my sketch book
And yet I couldn’t possibly attempt
To give an accurate sense of its beauty
Because I don’t understand
the lines on the petals
Or the reason that one flower is open,
one shut tight
Let alone the mystery of why it blooms
for just a short while
I wish you were here
And though I don’t know who you are
I know that you are here
In a little kid’s voice
sakura!
And in the breeze blowing from the sea
where I just was walking
And in the tears welling up
In my hopeful, impatient eyes
Which look for you in Japan
And in people who don’t see me
You do exist like the blossom
fickly blooming above my head
A child goes by on a noisy bike with a bell
I hear with an ear accustomed
to not understanding
Numerous people sake in hand
Sit poised
Under their own sakura tree
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