Dazzling are the stars that shine at night,
flecks of silver frolicking in the sky.
Sitting under the willow
I strike up a tune of melancholy
while my mind ascends to heaven harmoniously.
Where is my heart?
Dilapidated as it may be
It is still as gentle as a rose bud.
The star's glistening plea
falls deftly on broken glass.
I am crushed by the sound of a distant motocycle
taking route 12 by force.