Shangri-La
The flowing rain plasters my stinking shirtChildren are playing on the stairs’ landingEvery day cracked lips lightly openA heart covered in patches
You pulled out. Broken by those hands.Many memories crumbled
Why?
You had set up innocent wordsAnd so, I'm hanging.The girl riding the swing, growing wings,And flying away, where is she?
Over there is a hill of blooming peach flowersA naked heart, a hill wet with rain
You're smiling because I said we can't meet againYou entrusted the ticket of the promise to meI put a tiny, tiny peach flower petalIn my pocket, and forgot about even that.
Can't come through the door of memories anymoreThat unopened door is disappearing
Over there is a hill of blooming peach flowersIs it tears or rain? I really don't know.That hill of blooming peach flowersA quiet hill, now that you've finally disappeared
A half-dried, stinking shirtI will hang here for eternityThe kids have disappeared from the stairsI will also surely disappear