In memory of my beloved friend Kuriko Yoshinaka

The flower withers and fades away
on a cold and bleak November day.
On the streets of Osaka the lily's bud
lands softly and quietly in a pool of blood.
With a two bullet and a muzzle flashes
my snow white flower was turned into ashes.
With two shots all that mattered,
like a fragile mirror was shattered.
The friend that I have loved the most,
is now doomed to walk in this world as a ghost.