When they first met,
he was thinking of his white moonlight,
and she was longing for her cinnabar mole.
When they met again,
he was plotting his schemes,
and she was working out her own plans.
Because your feelings were false,
mine were false, too.
Their entanglement
was nothing but a series of carefully staged deceptions.
The play was a lie,
and so was the love!
But
when the curtain fell,
and the courtyard stood quiet and empty,
who had been drawn deepest into the act?
