篠宮さくら

A subtle sensuality that transcends mere words of beauty.
A gentle breeze of early summer drifts through.
A single winding road stretches like the curve of the sea.

Upon a hill overlooking white sand beaches,
A home with a bright blue roof and pristine white walls—
brighter far than the azure of the sea itself.

Beyond the curved white handrail,
sweet, delicate melodies drift forth with ease.

As the gaze follows that melody,
white lace curtains catch the wind,
swelling gently, billowing and wavering with each breath.

Fluttering in the drifting breeze,
the intricately embroidered fabric dances,
while the silhouette of a grand piano and the slender, graceful arms of its player
are illuminated and reflected by the shimmering light from the sea.

Brick-toned medium hair and
porcelain skin flushed with pale rose—
a figure of such grace it is evident even from afar.

Captivated and drawn in by such beauty,
the gaze cannot be torn away.
The heart races so that only the sound of waves can be heard,
the mouth grows so parched that saliva seems to evaporate in one's heightened arousal.

Against the irresistible surge of impulse welling up,
reason whispers resistance, yet fails to hold—
the legs move forward toward that distant light, driven by instinct.


Beyond the entrance, brilliant with the contrast
of an approach lined with white pebbles
and the verdant Saint Augustine grass,
stands a Provençal home adorned with
small white lilac blossoms tinged with peach at their edges.

Like a butterfly drunk on floral fragrance,
trembling fingers at last reach out
toward the chime of this charming abode.

A pure, soul-cleansing tone sounds...
The soft, gentle creak of an inner door is faintly heard.
Slippered footsteps, delicate and measured,
stop before the entrance, and a substantial white-painted door opens wide.

"May I ask who calls...?"

With an expression of slight uncertainty and concern,
a sweet, tender voice—tinged with whispered poignancy—
reaches the ears, which flush without even seeing,

and the lips, moist and pale rose, draw one's gaze inescapably... dolce