Cherry Blossoms [ Sakura (さくら) ]
We spent all of our time in days long past sitting on the roof and staring up at the sky.
Slipping out of work wearing sweat and debris, subsisting on our daytime fantasies.
We promised each other we would never speak of the flimsy insecurity we both shared.
The local train’s been rattling for a while as its journey takes it across the viaducts.
I’ve been wondering if we made the right choice. Maybe we’re being too stubborn.
You said there was no way we were wrong, that we could do it if we wanted to.
At night we bite our lips and beg for forgiveness on hands and knees.
In that darkness came the scream of someone weeping who just couldn’t form the words.
In the middle of the street lay the broken remains of a crow run over by a car. Oh, the pain. Oh, the pain.
Are you kidding me?! How could you let it all end here? How dare you treat everything we did as a phase we got over!
I’ll never forget all the gallons of tears I spilled as the footsteps faded away further and further!
We picked up all the flyers trampled on the ground. When we got to the park we realized it was Spring.
Falling before us and our bitter smiles,
I hated the tall tree outside my bedroom window. The light from the sun couldn’t make it inside.
I kept on hating that tree until Spring came and its flowers came into bloom.
Even though this story doesn’t matter anymore, I still feel the lingering pangs of regret.
I guess this story really doesn’t matter at all. Sorry.
Beneath the gloomy sunset in the station’s roundabout, my mind was spinning with ideas.
Is it sad when things end or is it sad when they begin? It’s almost time for the street lights to turn on.
The beginning and the end might be the same after all. If that’s the case then no amount of crying will do me any good.
But my chest still hurts. Hurts so bad.
In a single room, the offshoot of the first Spring winds blow. The curtains we both chose together sway to and fro.
If only someone would take this baggage from me, and this empty feeling I have while they’re at it.
I work like I’ve got nothing to lose. You hang up the laundry at the end of the day.
And clinging to the laundry so tightly,
Our stories are told through these beginnings and endings, of the people who pass away and others met anew.
And if all that’s true, then the sorrow it always seems to bring is just one of the prices we pay for living.
We pick up all the tears we once had thrown away. Before you even realize it, Spring’s come once again.
And so I will sing, and sing, and sing.
Cherry blossoms surround us even now. Watch as they bloom forever and ever.
Cherry blossoms bloom all around, falling upon each of our stories.