Kimono
By Joel Cartwright
Long ago:
They fluttered around Gion like flowers in the breeze,
The long furisode of the maiko once scraped along the ground,
The hanamachi were odorous with the smell of sakura incense,
All this beauty, hidden behind the fragile veil of flowers,
The mysterious world, covered in secrets not to comprehend.
Who could have foresaw, the tragedy that befell this peaceful life?
The crumble and decay of this delicate existence,
The panic and furore that was caused in this intimate land,
The tragedy exposing the thousand year old antiquity
And at this point, things were never the same again
Legends of the East, brought back to the West
Never understood, not meant to be questioned
Now the furisode and elegant kimono are legends of the past
The Gion hanamachi full of urban promise, full of ghostly past
A long-lived veil, snatched from the ephemeral times
What could the island of the East do, but bow to the West?
Embracing change like the fleeting transition of winter into spring
This is the culture of the Geisha, the mystery of Japan
Rare but not eradicated
Seen but only misunderstood
The hanamachi of today, still weave this sacred world
More steadily and carefully, as the veil grows thinner still
Waiting 'till the day the Noh mask finally breaks
By Joel Cartwright
Long ago:
They fluttered around Gion like flowers in the breeze,
The long furisode of the maiko once scraped along the ground,
The hanamachi were odorous with the smell of sakura incense,
All this beauty, hidden behind the fragile veil of flowers,
The mysterious world, covered in secrets not to comprehend.
Who could have foresaw, the tragedy that befell this peaceful life?
The crumble and decay of this delicate existence,
The panic and furore that was caused in this intimate land,
The tragedy exposing the thousand year old antiquity
And at this point, things were never the same again
Legends of the East, brought back to the West
Never understood, not meant to be questioned
Now the furisode and elegant kimono are legends of the past
The Gion hanamachi full of urban promise, full of ghostly past
A long-lived veil, snatched from the ephemeral times
What could the island of the East do, but bow to the West?
Embracing change like the fleeting transition of winter into spring
This is the culture of the Geisha, the mystery of Japan
Rare but not eradicated
Seen but only misunderstood
The hanamachi of today, still weave this sacred world
More steadily and carefully, as the veil grows thinner still
Waiting 'till the day the Noh mask finally breaks
Sucks, I know... but what the hell :)
