Even that one word of yours, even that smile,
holds great meaning for me.
Even that small glint in your eyes,
even that lonely figure of your back, is a hard promise for me.
What is everything about you to me?
It becomes a riddle that won't unravel.
Sorrow blooms as the cosmos of a small wayside station,
and you, who blew by brushing past, are a fragrant breeze.
Now I build a castle upon the billowing clouds
and open toward you a window, a window that lets the wind in.
--
From the morning on, I'm filled with sentiment.
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