Last night, fallen blossoms became a grave. I sighed at life, fleeting as a dream. How long can one remain drunk on dreams? Treading through the northern snow, I entered the prison; trading spears and armor for the Asura realm, every step brought calamity, every year became a sorrow. Will I return? Will I return? At the end of the flowering season, its blazing splendor scorches me; my heart aches as I soothe the vicissitudes of half a lifetime.
