I feel I shall be swallowed up by beauty,
My life is a willow world, a façade almost,
A Dance , along to the shamisen.
And he is watching, what is he thinking?
My white skin shines and I am alone again.
The red flowers they are no match to my lips.
Split peach in my hair, falling flowers.
Maiko colours that were soon to be pastel like Mameha.
My milk white hands are not those of Chiyo,
But sayuri, and even Hatsomomo can not stain them
With her vile temper, and bitterness.
She is old, always aging, Mameha says.
'To be a Geisha is to be a work of art'
A shadow to be filtered out by the sun when
not wanted.
I wonder if he remembers sweet ice, a crying girl
A smile?
Lost in the world I was
And now I have an aim, to be his.
And to succeed
My revenge is not as desperate as Mameha's
Ever since my unskilful brush bleed ink from its tip
Onto that stark silk, have I made mistakes, many,
But soon to be forgotten.
Now that the kimono fits tightly and my hair waxed back
I can forget Chiyo, her suffering and strife
Elegant, white beauty
I was not born to the life of a geisha, as we now sip tea, and tell tales
I can look back onto my life and see
My troubles have bled like ink ,
Casting unknown, letters, symbols onto a world that wasn't mine.
I have learnt from the beauty I have portrayed,
Love is what wipes away our troubles, and
Life is just a façade, a dance, along to the shamisen