At first, the picture you drew of me was a monochrome drawing.
Rough here and there, your movement were stiff.
And you laughed awkwardly.
The pen rustled as it raced, giving colour to the shape in light and shadow.
you, living in the world beyond this level surface,
what facial expression are you making?
Each time your hands shakes,
that one drawing that is my body is transformed
With each stroke, I am newly born.
From the point those fingers touched, a world is beginning.
I received a body, I received a heart,
a pulsing bell becomes alive.
I know for the first time,
in those hands,
the miracle of life.
Those magic hands, those gentle hands.
They seem to envelop me as they draw
The eyes, the mouth, the nose, the feet, the hands
The voice of life.
Since the first time you drew me,
a year has passed.
Ages misrepresentations, jokes
many things have happened.
I drew it well, you laugh, with an expression I love more than anything in the world
so the reason I was born, its not something deep
I know that, but just for now, look at me,
Warmly, filling me up.
I'm engulfed by you.
Now, all the time.
As if it were an obvious thing.
I draw breath, and yet time flows
Even if you leave me.
Only me in this world.
All the time, all the time.
Eternal life, the scent of an instant
That is everything I have, so
as long as you remember me
I will continue to draw breath.
Soon, you will forget all about me.
but just me, just this drawing
will we remain?
Me, this drawing, will you remember us?
Will we remain?
You drew me. Never, never forget.
I'm here, breathing in your hands.
When times are hard and you are at your limit
Remember me.
After all, me, this drawing, we live on even like this.
By magic hands, gentle hands.
We were drawn.
"Thank you."
