With strength in my fevered fingertips,
I sought to craft a straightforward letter.
This is surely how a poem is born.
My heart holds mountains of affection to share,
yet a poverty of words chokes my voice.
My tongue's inadequacy leaves me so vexed,
I clench my fists in impotent regret.
The boundless love I hold for you,
the solitude of a lonely night—
I simply yearn for you to know it all.
When I touch you,
my fingertips glow like a candle’s flame.
Wanting to convey that,
I stack these awkward words, again and again.
A clear blue sky makes me dream;
a spring breeze lends me its gentle grace.
I imagine we could laugh and feel light as air.
I wish I could always trace my heart so perfectly.
When you break the seal with your fingers,
your own heart must surely pound.
You will inhale and let your eyes drift across the page,
and imagining your smiling face,
I compose and recompose, a thousand times.
Because a heart remains unseen,
there are countless things we cannot share.
At times I speak words I do not mean, out of stubbornness,
but in this repetition of regret,
I've found a little more honesty.
I write so many lines,
string so many phrases,
but still cannot say it all.
My powerless tears make writing a hateful task.
I question what I'm doing, yet I cannot cease.
I write my poems to reveal to you,
in its purest form,
my great love.
【Japanese version】