Living, for You

Then let me get drunk, since I cannot die right now. Through many bygone days, I’ve imagined countless times how I would depart. No answer ever came, until that moment yesterday. Low‑hanging, darkened clouds, and all the world falls silent. Beneath that osmanthus tree that bears no fragrance. Within the heart of the city, riddled with wounds worn by worldly bustle and noise. I said to you: I want to die in your arms. If it could be so, it would be God’s gift unto me. Yet I cannot die, for I can still watch over you. To watch over you, year after year, in this lonely world. I can still hold you, and so I can only get drunk. Even if I pass out drunk within your arms. Or even, slumber eternally in your arms. In the distant past, you were my dearest little girl. Through the deep long nights, you were my tenderest little woman. Down in the innermost depth of our souls, Have we always been searching and waiting, For feelings to embrace one another, For souls to gaze into each other’s eyes. Truly, the day our bared bodies meet without reserve, Is when our past and present lives joyfully reunite. I do not wish to die, because you are alive. So I can only get drunk, drunk in your arms. I do not wish to die, because you are alive. So I can only get drunk, even to sleep forever in your arms. In the furthest of days, you are my dearest little girl. Through the deepest long nights, you are my tenderest little woman. I do not wish to die, because you are alive. So I can only get drunk, drunk in your arms. I do not wish to die, because you are alive. So I can only get drunk, even to sleep forever in your arms.