MIMIC LYRIC

rm**Seasons.

There are blue spring,
vermilion and white autumn,
black winter turn around
and rotate in the summer.

It is assumed that incense of a plum begins to drift by makeup with lam to sunlight,
and cruel spring revealed victory
or defeat of the life to invite spring of reproduction to irresistibly comes.
In the days of it,
an unpleasant encounter mixes with nice separation.
A plum, a peach, a cherry tree, trees wake and load a bud
with the blood which a trunk is filled with
and let flowers in full blossom all at once bloom.
I will toast the flower which blooms to be scattered,
the grass which send out buds to die,
a sprout, the bravery to grow thick so that it is eaten.

Summer to throw off with an ethic, morality, shyness, common sense, clothes.
Youths of obscene thing exhibition punishment huskiness huskiness.
The old man that licking it observe still them with envy and jealousy and eyes of anger.
A woman troubled with superfluous flesh,
a man minding energy,
noncommittal like both liquor and sweets.
The Japanese inside turns into Sodom,
and, in the Sea of Japan,
lechery and a dishonest act spread over death Sea.
Playing with matches is funke!
with the last fireworks to a night sky.

An autumn long night is tense.
The lingering summer heat and abhorrentness mingle,
and moisture of summer adds to a discomfort index.
Of a cricket call,
and the world does not have a sound.
Six means of transportation of an indecent figure are only sounds
to rub a greasy feather together.
It is the unpleasant sound that does not come off the eardrum like singing in the ears.
At last though a noise of a cicada was settled,
a cricket blames me.
I am sharp and am burnt,
and die,
and kill me,
and kill you by yourself!
When an insect disappears,
favorite winter comes.
Because I am pretty in winter,
and frozen one has a sterilization effect than boiling.
I can escape in a dream
if I bear the end of the year
and a samisen music rhythm uproar of an opening just a little.
I want to sleep.
I want to sleep without being afraid of waking.
I want to freeze to death if I come true.
I leave the position to heat just before death,
and at last I am pretty,
and it can be it in sterility, purity if I throw off clothes
and am frozen nakedly and so do it.

posted by Uzuki Haruha @ 1/12/2006 08:00:00 AM