The dance of Asura-shura, entwining with the sacred willow

I'll never give you up to anyone again

Demons and monsters devouring dreams—the honey-bug

Falling all the way down to where one falls—an empty cicada shell

—into the body's idle play

The song of Asura-shura, crossing beyond the storm

Crying out that beloved name over and over

The face of a yaksha, the visage of a hannya—a flower's countenance

Which one of me is the one you'll meet?

—my very body smolders with longing

Holding only this feeling close,

I just keep on living.