The Walk – A New Conversation – Hazakura

When last we visited this place,
it was during hanami.
He lay on the grass,
long legs stretched out,
eyes closed,
hands behind his head.
I sat and wafted my fan slowly,
watching the geese float
on the small pond
at the foot of the hill.
The cherry blossoms had long since
turned into thick green shade.
He asked:
Who was he?
I ignored him.
He opened his eyes.
Who was he?
My fan gently moved the air
and hid my face.
He sat up and plucked
the fan from my hands.
Who was he?
I turned to look at him.
Please return my fan, sir.
Not until you tell me, who was he?
I sighed. My Japanese is terrible.
Who was he? Who is he still?
Kare wa watashi no eien no aidearu (the love of my life).
Daitan futekina senshi (fearless warrior).
Odayakana hito (gentle man).
samurai.
Watashi no uchū (my universe).

He handed me my fan.
Your Japanese is fine.
He lay back down and closed his eyes.

And you are?
Samurai.
totemo nakano ii tomodachi (very close friend).
Watashi wa anata o sonkei (I respect you).
Anata wa watashi o shiawase na kibun ni naru (you make me feel happy).

He opened his eyes
and smiled.