After having come close
You went far away.
From this ruthlessness of Yours,
I am much pained.

Having once stood in the front,
You hid Yourself in the back.
Do not You have a little affection for me?

Raising me to the top of the tree,
why did You remove the ladder?

Handing over the nectar fruit with Your hand,
why did You throw it into the river?

You bloom buds in spring
and then burn them to ashes
in the intense summer sun.

After lighting the camphor lamp,
You allow it to be extinguished,
leaving behind only black soot.

Removing the sweetness from my green heart,
You leave it stranded as if dead.

I seek only a little grace from You,
in order to survive
until, in Your ideation,
I shall merge with You.