Late this spring night, a red flower
Drops one petal on my breast, two on my hat.
I’m feeling pretty and whistling
All the way to the city where you live.
In the brief hours of the secret night,
Drunk on sweet sake,
Listening to fairy tales, we close our eyes
Like the kitten on the stove.
Farewell at three in the morning,
The gift that I hand to you.
Our parting words are endless,
A clock with a broken pendulum.