A poetic melody has manifested itself into what exists today.
We have swaddled it in cherry blossoms
and laid it to rest on the rich green grass of our idyllic scenery.
Our hearts have crooned this melody for months
Now a lullaby that I fall to sleep with at night.
Endless writing on thousands of paper cranes
Our words are nightingales in the spring evenings.
A fallen star our eyes have witnessed
and colored lights prancing in the cloudless night sky--
A flower breaking through two plates of concrete--
May the ink that flows from our fingertips nourish this unexpected miracle.
Oh what rare beauties we have been able to see
when love is nothing but an ideal of poetry.
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