I’ll be waiting for you where the white cherry tree
Quietly and shyly peers out from the orchard.
Where it seems peaceful with no one around,
Just the road growing still and somber.
Maybe you won’t come, lovely brown-eyed girl,
So she the lonely night will caress me.
Gentle and precious, she will console me,
She’ll kiss my cheeks and stroke my hair.
Maybe you won’t come, I won’t rant and rave,
I’ll saunter by myself from evening till dawn.
To tell the truth: it’s not you I’m waiting for,
But for my love in the white orchard.
May 20, 1953