【詩】不死鳥
その身は爛れ腐り
壊死し 焼かれ
灰となれども
その空蝉が残せし種々
わずかなりとも
代々の巷に残りせば
金色の両翼
炎の如く持て上げ
意識と呼べる無限の虚空に
虹を流しつ
飛翔せん
Phoenix
Even if it burns, rots, necroses, burns,
And becomes ashes,
If the various things left by the empty cicada
Remain in generations for generations,
Lift both golden wings like a flame,
And fly with a rainbow flowing
In the infinite void
That can be called consciousness!