ð¹ð¹ããããæ²ã¿ãæ¢ ä»äºã人çãšã¯ïŒmochi2â¡+Englishãpoemð¹ð¹è±èªãèŠæãªmochiã®ãå匷çå°ðª
ð¹ð¹ããããæ²ã¿ãæ¢ ä»äºãmochi2â¡+Englishãpoemð¹ð¹
ååŸã¯ããèªæ
å€ã®ç²ããè©ã«æ²ã
éåã®æ¢ ã·ããããã²ãšå£ã身äœã«ããããæ²ã¿ã
人çã¯äºå²ã®æšã¿ã§ã§ããŠããã£ãŠ
çã¿ã¯ããŸããããã»ãèŠãã¯å€±æïŒ
ã©ã¡ãããªããŠã¯ãªããªãããšïŒ
ããã©ããäºå³ïŒãã¿ïŒã¯ãã€ãŸã§ãããã ã«æ®ã
é žã£ã±ãã¯èšæ¶ã®ããããšãªããçã¿ã¯æãåºã®å ãšãªã
人çã®æ¢ ã·ãããã®ãšãã»ã³ã¹ã¯
éãã«å¿ãããŸã最ãããæã«å°ããªåžæã®å³ãéã¶
倱æã®èŠãããã¿ãããçãã«åŸ®ç¬ãã®
ãã®ç¹°ãè¿ãã®ãªãã§ãç§ãã¡ã¯å°ããã€æããããªã
å ãšåœ±ã亀ããååŸã®å ã«ãèªåèªèº«ãèŠã€ãçŽãã®ãâŠ
ãã¡mochi
In the afternoon, I take care of myself.
Summerâs fatigue sinks into my shoulders.
A sip of plum syrup from Kamakura seeps warmly through my body.
They say life is made of only twenty percent savor.
Sweetness is indulgence, bitterness perhaps a failure?
Are both truly indispensable?
Yet, the five tastes linger forever in our bodies.
Sourness becomes drops of memory, sweetness turns into light of remembrance.
The essence of lifeâs plum syrup quietly moistens the heart,
and sometimes carries the subtle taste of hope.
We savor the bitterness of mistakes, and smile at the sweetness.
Through this repetition, we grow a little softer,
and under the afternoon light where shadow and shine intertwine,
we find ourselves anewâŠ
â å°ãå šèšäºã®ã³ããŒè€è£œãæš¡å£ã転èŒãç¡æåŒçšãäºæ¬¡äœ¿çšãæªè³ªãªäœ¿çšãç¡æAIã³ããŒäœ¿çšãåºãçŠæ¢ããŸããæãåœããæ¹ããããŸããèäœæš©ãããèåæš©ãããã容赊é¡ããŸãããã¡mochi©ïž)
English
â Dear friends, we kindly ask for your understanding that all articles are protected by copyright and portrait rights. Please refrain from copying, imitating, reposting, unauthorized quoting, secondary use, or improper AI usage. Your careful respect for these works is greatly appreciated. Thank you ever so much.©ïžmochimochi
äžæ
â 亲ç±çæåä»¬ïŒæ³è¯·æšçè§£ïŒæææç« ååçæåèåæä¿æ€ã请å¿å€å¶ã暡仿ãèœ¬èœœãæªç»ææåŒçšãäºæ¬¡äœ¿çšæäžåœäœ¿çšAIãè¡·å¿æè°¢æšå¯¹è¿äºäœåçå°éäžåµæ€ã©ïžmochimochi
ãã¡mochi
ãããªãšæã£ããå¿æŽãããïŒ
ãã€ãå¿æŽããããšã
ããããŸãð¹ð¹âšïž
å±ã¿ã«ãªããŸãã
note掻åããã°ããŸãâ«
ããªãæ§ã®noteã
å¿æŽããããŸããðïžâïžð