As I gaze on the sun rising from the ocean,
the sound of the waves triggers memories of long ago.
Spring was once a season of traveling for the Japanese;
a time of new meetings and farewells.
And always, cherry blossoms were nearby.
I routinely view the stately blooming cherries each year.
But I am growing old, and lately, maybe for this reason,
I feel a poignant beauty in them not visible to me before.
Hoary old trees sprouting blossoms even on their trunks
burst into bloom despite their age,
as if cherishing their remaining time on earth.
Their petals, falling and scattering, evoke
the transience of existence in the world and also
the cycle of life with its promise of yet another spring.
The rhythmic “beauty of transience” transmitted in NATURE-
May it awaken memories of the soul.
Comment
As I gaze on the sun rising from the ocean,
the sound of the waves triggers memories of long ago.
Spring was once a season of traveling for the Japanese;
a time of new meetings and farewells.
And always, cherry blossoms were nearby.
I routinely view the stately blooming cherries each year.
But I am growing old, and lately, maybe for this reason,
I feel a poignant beauty in them not visible to me before.
Hoary old trees sprouting blossoms even on their trunks
burst into bloom despite their age,
as if cherishing their remaining time on earth.
Their petals, falling and scattering, evoke
the transience of existence in the world and also
the cycle of life with its promise of yet another spring.
The rhythmic “beauty of transience” transmitted in NATURE-
May it awaken memories of the soul.