To you, fair lady, in the kimono of a floral emblem...

It has been a person’s year-span

And then some…

I remember looking at the 7000 flowers

Which are in full bloom

Within that garb, my friend.

I hope Kyoto was as vibrant

As how you and Shiro-chan said.

700 days had passed;

Seems quite immersive,

For a dreamer like yourself.

Do you still have that journal?

Shiro-chan wanted to read it.

You hesitated then,

Embarrassed as you are

And the seven long hours you were mad

That first winter we all quarrelled,

And we all stormed out of the place;

We thought we’d lost Shiro-chan

It’s as if she’s our missing, precious

Seven-year-old daughter.

Then came midnight before your birthday,

I called you that day; my heart was heavy.

I remember my tears thawing out snowflakes…

We were saddened to see you move

Though we promised, we’ll talk often.

It’s… it has already been a long time,

In the twilight of the day your birth;

My heart is even heavier today,

And that river isn’t enough, knowing

That at 7:00, you were gone from this world.

Autumn, the fall, came with the leaves

On the seventh of that month;

Walking to the balcony,

I looked over the horizon,

Dreaming of a last dance.

To the woman with the hanafuda kimono, thank you.