That year, under the cherry blossom trees, you came in the morning light.
At that time, I thought that you were my world.
The cherry blossoms are flying so beautifully. You reach out to me and whisper my favorite voice with your lightly opened red lips.
Dumbly and quietly, I looked at you, real but hazy.
Years later, under the cherry blossom trees, I came by the moonlight.
At this time, I realized that you are still my world.