A shamisen bewitches the darkness
The flute accompanies the flight of the clouds;
And the wind decorates the heat of our foreheads
A taiko (drum) shakes the boredom on the veranda

Traveller, the lute constellates the darkness,
Under the rain of a thousand stars, the candlestick of hours
Continues its combustion in a city haunted by light
And the ghosts light up the cobblestones of the city.

The sun makes a catch
In the morning anxious to let go of the light,
The flowers here never sleep,
The evening is a tattoo, which fades every day,

Tokyô under the flashes, crackles like an angel,
Lost souls, in the sewers, fickle,
Like Okinawa’s sanshin lute,
A shamisen bewitches the darkness,

Traveler, the wind catapults the silence,
A thousand voices in the rain, a thousand hours of light,
The bonsai trees are anxious to let the wind go,
The morning is a lute, which bewitches the night