How to let you meet me,
when I am in the prime of life.
For this wish,
I've prayed to Buddha for five hundred years,
Prayed to him to bring us together in earthly life.
Buddha then turns me into a tree,
Growing by a road you will certainly travel along.
In the sun,
Blooming lushly and discreetly.
Each flower is my longing from a past life.
When you come near,
Please listen carefully.
Those trembling leaves,
Are my eagerness of waiting.
And when you’ve finally walked by without setting eyes on me,
Behind you, falling on the ground,
My dear, is not flower petals,
Is my withered heart.