Happiness has so many stories to tell, walking on at last, breaking through sorrow's dam… No, I have no such sorrow—a wanderer in foreign lands is just like this.
I see, suddenly in green fire, a ferry of whiteness! Is that you, Camellia?
You were there in that timeless tale through February… How wildly you would laugh, how we'd cling together! I thought, so happiness is bought and sold in days of separation!
How calculating joys are, coming in careful counts! Sorrows are reckless, filling life's storehouse so full!
Sometimes I want to sit naked in moonlit waters, to touch the moon's mood a little, just touch it, touch it… But I can't, you know!
I feel, with a body full of sin, it's wrong to touch such pure dreams! The healing fire was meant to burn away poison— then how can I ask for nectar-words now, tell me!
Yes, I was writing to you, Camellia! If just once you'd laugh wildly, cling to me… Keep the divine nectar within your circle, I'll be a young lover again, you the bride-moon; secretly we'll be playful stars, golden-dust-colored; at the confluence, you are mine, O Camellia!
No, don't be afraid, I am no poet; I won't let your whiteness be punished.
Yes, what was I writing! In green fire, a ferry of whiteness floats… One, two, three—how time has run out, you and I together, remember, how many stars did we count?
There, in the corner of my eye, carelessly Camellia is laughing!