Sylvia Sharpentier

I took a long train to Gero, and
Stayed at an old ryokan with a small onsen
On the snowy day when trees fell on the track of January

The snow was eating noise at the river valley 
In the mist of time and history, 
I contemplated about life, love, family, and happiness
And came to a sense that they are all the same:
My warmth, the heat in the hinterland of my heart 

It was snowing softly, and I was sitting in the onsen under a beautiful bonsai tree
Between the twin boulders ran a small waterfall
A bamboo stick, the nature's lullaby for the tired

Everything might have been forensically calculated,
I heard the wood stairs screaming like a living thief detector
And the wind in the room made me feel bad about the old times
In yukata and a band around my waist, a clean posture
Apologetic or unapologetic, that is the question

In my defense, the art of slow living visited me out of the blue
Naked against the mountains
A frog smiled on a lotus
With a piece of towel on his head
Looking at the trees with a wedding dress
Feeling a breeze, deeper into the water

Steam blurred me, but good memories are always blurry
Like a piece of Monet's art, like watercolor paintings
Like the visionaries' eyes that don't find faults in things,
Only to appreciate what it is as it is and as it was given

Birds were chirping distantly, and I had a grand view of the other side
Across the river

My face was glowing pink in need of few drinks, karages, and beef ramen
So I had my own small party at an izakaya late at night
Back to my stay, back to the onsen