« The Garden of Storms »©
Beyond the mountains and beyond the seas, Just in the middle of the Pacific lies an archipelago. A wonderful garden surrounded by oceans, Where fruits and flowers are next to the singing of birds. Where thousands of temples witness of the time strength. In the land of the Sakuras, art is a disciplin, Honour is an emblem, the refinement is a banner. We can hear the song of the Katana, the song of the wind through the cherry trees. Hopefully our essence may not disappear with time And the tsunamis won’t take away all our disciples. This is where the sun rises, where dreams take shape and empires collapse. Should the darkness invade our lands, Will the world remember us ? Of our fateful destiny… Our story flows in our veins, In our rivers and in the ink of our feathers. Most certainly after the storm, will come the rainy days. These are the words of the wise who resound in infinity… « Noires sont les roses »
« The Garden of Storms » invites us to the “Land of the Rising Sun” to meet a strong land of multi-millennial civilization.
As for most peoples, the question of the balance between tradition and modernity arises.
« What is the essence of a people facing the test of time ? »
NOIRES SONT LES ROSES
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