A poem by Shindemura Yuu
In this path of dried earth
Rampant terrain to life yields
The night puts off the hearth
He plays piano for the dying fields.
The bittersweet corpses obscured
Beneath the undying beauty of a cross mark
The grave has swooned what he procured
Humans who were tolled to decay and stark.
We, the dying trees witnesses the losing bane
For mist covers her name on the stone
She sips the water from the scarce rain
The night aids her, never to hone.
Creepy gasp of the mother earth
We’ve been here for so long and weary
You visit us and see our girth
Our lives came out from the cemetery.
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