My midnight

The cherry blossoms had already fallen in May

I just stand quietly in this strange street

Once again, etc

March

The peach blossoms sent in spring have long since withered

And there were some bright bones in that note

On fire

The sound of rain is not hidden tears

Always follow the rosebud

Into the lonely city of spring

There is little snow in the bright wilderness

Like a little bit of armor off the outside of the heart

In spring just a little bit of purple cloud

The night wind will no longer have the fields covered with desolation