Someday my death will come;[1]
I will face it as though I knew it was coming.
Once all other [options] have been used up
I will defeat everything before me.
I bid my heart be quiet. A piece of paper [falls] beneath my heel.
In my left hand: a blade; in my right hand: a mirror.[2]
The length of my life has been measured and cut, but I bid my feelings be bright.
Reason gave birth to machines; machines match well with reason.
Towards the road that will bring me to victory.
Rather than grieving for a past I cannot return to
Or inquiring about a future I cannot grasp
I want to get close to my unsettled heart.
While I am still living in this world
I will cultivate my heart.
I ask myself where I should leave my own wishes behind.
I hold the longsword at eye-level.
Thoughts from the other day join the things I cut away.
If dew that reflects the light of the moon could linger, the eye in my heart would open.
Rather than grieving for a past I cannot return to
Or inquiring about a future I cannot grasp
I want to get close to my unsettled heart.
While I am still living in this world
I'll cultivate my heart.
Thoughts from the other day join the things I cut away.
If dew that reflects the light of the moon could linger, the eye in my heart would open.
Rather than grieving for a past I cannot return to
Or inquiring about a future I cannot grasp
I want to get close to my unsettled heart.
While I am still living in this world...
My death will come around at any rate;
I will face it as though I had been waiting for it.
Once all other [options] have been used up
I will defeat everything before me.
Towards completing my soul.