(Utagawa, JAOD)
Love seemed a torment:
it had all been so fleeting
and now she was gone.
He could not quench his regrets
and felt deep despair.
Why had he left her alone?
Orange blossom scent
mingled with his memories.
Everything seemed so dream-like.
No explanation
of her death seemed to make sense.
O, clandestine love,
your effects are so profound;
your inception so shallow.
Candia Comes Clean 