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20 lines
1.1 KiB
Plaintext
20 lines
1.1 KiB
Plaintext
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An elegant watch adorned with a shrine bell.
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The hands always point toward the wee hours of the morning.
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As the sky brightens, morning dew condenses and then disappears.
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As beautiful as this colorful scenery may be, it is still short-lived.
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I once enjoyed the chirping of cicadas and the moonlight with Lady Saiguu on a slope in the middle of an autumn night.
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Back then, I was just a shrine maiden from the country, young and stubborn.
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Like a chirping finch, noisily insisting on my own view.
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A faint smile that crossed the mouth of the Lady Kitsune fascinated me, but her words were — and remain — incomprehensible:
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"Trying to hold on to a moment's beauty is like foolishly trying to grasp the morning dew."
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"Like the morning dew, I have already passed away. All you have seen of me is but a residual vision, born of your wishes."
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In that vague memory, she kept saying some incomprehensible things. Her expression as sorrowful as the eighth month's moon, and I suddenly...
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Then she rapped me over the head with her tobacco pipe, wearing her usual expression of rebuke and mockery:
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"Hibiki, the sun's about to rise."
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"We should head back." |