A Student in Japan
Oh, to be a student in Japan
in Spring when the cherry blossoms fall.
To skip down walkways strewn with the flowers,
hair blowing in the Jasmine-scented wind.
To twirl my parasol like the white-faced geisha,
tottering around on their training heels,
the men following them in droves.
A true geisha can stop a man with one look,
but could I, if I were a plaid-skirted student,
in Japan in the springtime?
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