Lyric

Ink of spring — I write without refill

Difficulty wakes, sharp and still

The page overflows with heritage divine

Barcelona burns, the Great Wall aligns

If half-learned, then let me grow

Reflection’s not shame, but a glow

In the lonely night, the light will rise

The wind of the needle-lark turns into song

“イッショウカシテ ニトトル リトルリトル”

Through the smallest hole, the world comes clear

Beauty’s deep, and fault disappears

Feelings surge, layer on layer

Hungry sports, pride and prayer

The fading hero, still fighting on

Secrets & depths—truth withdrawn

Better melt than envy’s chill

Man shall not live by bread alone, still

Ride your horse, walk beside your kind

The wind of the needle-lark turns into song

“イッショウカシテ ニトトル リトルリトル”

Through the smallest hole, the world comes clear

Beauty’s deep, and fault disappears

The Tower of Pisa leans, yet stands

As people lean and lend their hands

Hitchcock’s birds with needle-larks fly

Crossing Palenque’s ancient sky

Bamberg bells paint shadows wide

From non-being — to the dawn of sight

Through darkness — into light

The needle-lark sings, declaring strong

“イッショウカシテ ニトトル リトルリトル”

Through the smallest hole, the world comes clear

Beauty’s deep

“イッショウカシテ ニトトル リトルリトル”