aki ya mukashi no
waga mi hitotsu wa
moto no mi ni shite
Is this not the rain, and this autumn, the autumn of old? Am I the only thing that stays the way it was?
It's October, it's raining, ash leaves fall like snowflurries, maples glow golden under the streetlamps: and I'm not going to New York to see paleaswater as I did in '10, and incandescens isn't coming here as she did in '12, and the fall feels a bit incomplete in consequence.