When the gate guard sinks into sleep
You turn back together with the storm
That which ages in the embrace is
The rose of time

When the birds’ routes demarcate the sky
You look backward at the sunset
That which appears in the disappearance is
The rose of time

When the sword is bent in the water
You tread the flute melody across the bridge
That which cries aloud in the conspiracy is
The rose of time

When the pen draws a line of horizon
You’re startled awake by the oriental gong
That which blooms in the reverberation is
The rose of time

It is always this moment in the mirror
This moment leads toward the gate of rebirth
And the gate opens toward seas
The roses of time