Night Cherry Blossoms

On the night branches,
lights hang quietly.

Daytime cherry blossoms are
flowers of the wind and sun.

But night cherry blossoms
become flowers of human time.

Red lights
gently dye the petals.

It is as if the cherry blossoms themselves
are breathing softly.

The bustle of the day fades,
and the voices of passersby grow distant.

All that remains is
the sound of branches swaying slightly and
the scent of a spring night.

Cherry blossoms
are not in a hurry to bloom.

But people
are always in a hurry.

Hurrying to work,
hurrying home,
hurrying to think about the future.

Yet when you stand under the cherry blossoms,
that speed slows down just a little.

People stop,
and look up.

Even though it is just that simple act,
for some reason, the heart becomes quiet.

The lights are small.

But those small lights
are quietly illuminating
the night flowers.

It is as if someone
gently lit a fire
for the people gathered here.

In the distant past, too,
it was surely the same.

When spring comes, people
gather under the flowers,

laugh a little,
drink a little,
and forget about life for a while.

The cherry blossoms watch all of this
without saying a word.

Nights of success,
nights of regret,
and nights when you don't know what to do.

The flowers just bloom,
and the lights just sway.

Just by that,
human time becomes a little softer.

Before long, the petals scatter,
the lights are taken down,
and this scenery disappears.

But,
next spring again,

someone will come here
and look up just the same.

At the light shining beyond the branches,
and the cherry blossoms floating in the night.

At that time,
someone will think again.

Spring is short.

That is precisely why
it is so beautiful.

Countless lights
swaying quietly on the night water surface.

I thought cherry blossoms were flowers of the day.
But in truth, that is not so.
When night falls, these flowers become a mirror reflecting the city's memories.

The cherry blossoms blooming on both banks of the river
seem as if they have known
that people would gather here for hundreds of years.

Even in the Edo period,
surely someone was gazing at this water.

Samurai, townspeople,
those who were in love,
and those who were parting.

People change,
clothes and language change,
and even the shape of the country changes.

Yet only spring
visits every year in the same way.

The small boats floating on the river
each carry a different life.

Someone is laughing,
someone is taking pictures,
someone is quietly watching the scenery.

But the cherry blossoms do not distinguish between anyone.

To those who have succeeded,
to those who are lost,
to those who are just managing to live today,

they let their petals fall in the same way.

Tokyo Tower shines in the distance,
and the city does not yet sleep.

In each of the building's lights,
there is someone's story.

Someone chased by work.
Someone chasing a dream.
Someone trying to start over again.

This river
has quietly watched all of them.

A single petal
falls onto the water surface.

It is only for an instant,
and it disappears into the flow.

A person's life
is a little like that.

It seems long,
but looking back, it is an instant.

That is precisely why
this night scenery is beautiful.

Because it is not eternal.

Cherry blossoms scatter quickly.
Spring ends quickly.

But within that short time,
people laugh,
talk,
and remember someone.

The river continues to flow quietly.

Even after the cherry blossoms scatter,
even when summer comes,
even when winter comes.

And then next spring again,
flowers will bloom in the same place.

At that time,
the people who come here will have changed again.

Even so, the cherry blossoms
without saying a word
will just bloom.

The night river,
today as well, quietly
carries human time.