I The wind blows kind the storm is announced There the light reveals some blade A hand holding a sword it vibrates and the air whispers II Two men wet their katanas in the river Cherry trees exploded on the road: April it was Murasama and Musamune watched flowers run over the water When flowers crashed against Murasama’s blade they were softly cut in halves “That is my blade”, Murasama claimed sadly noticing that flowers don’t bleed “Yours, Musamune, lets flowers escape. They touch its sharpn...