I guard this spring from the autumn's wreath.
Seasons of change are on their way.
A bittersweet separation it is.
When the windmill halts for a minute
To embrace the autumn wind
And to let go this seedtime's zenith.
The spring leaves love notes for the fall.
Like a lover on a voyage to a foreign land.
It leaves the sakura blooms in those notes
Which turn gold on their way to autumn.
A dried tear, a hint of spilled ink
And some unsaid words
Mark this autumn's heart.
From blue to red,from red to gold
The cycle goes on
The willows sigh, the daffodils dry
Whilst fleeting through changes of time.