Work Text:
The lady of the biwa,
Strums the strings,
With melancholic chords
that come with peace.
For her, this is a life,
But its cost was precious,
To the man that was caught to be red-handed.
And in response, she had gone mad,
And after that, the only sight was in deep red.
There was no longer life,
In the pulse of the man,
Of whom she had loved but couldn’t stand.
After the light, she had to play,
And with a surprise,
Her power renewed.
With shaky hands,
And with each chord,
The lady of the biwa strums her strings,
With melancholic chords that come with peace.