marble cherries


At the foot of an icy mountain,
Cherry blossoms are falling.
In the temple of pure gold,
Marble dolls are dwelling.

Graphite flames are sparkling in their eyes,
But smiles look as if they were made of stone.
These elegant slaves do not ever utter,
They are bound to the vows of silence.

Next to the lifeless volcano,
The flakes of sakura have melted.
Little marble dollies are resting,
Music has frozen in their pupils.


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