Poems and Songs
As we are born aloft as samurai of the skies,
Our eyes ever searching for signs of battle,
See how our outstretched arms carry us forward
Like divine wings.
Here we are—comrades of the sacred land of the rising sun!
Enemy ships are sighted—loud alerts are sounded.
Let us drive them beneath the waves!
Men of the cherry blossom squadrons—rally to the charge!
As we look down at our base spread below us,
Through the flow of tears that fills up our hearts,
We can see a fading glimpse of hands waving farewell!
Now is the time for our final, plunging blow.
We are ready to spill our blood, oh so red.
See how we dive towards the ships in the seas of the south!
The cool waves will console our departed spirits
And some day we will be reborn as cherry blossoms
In the garden of Yasukuni Jinja.
You and I, we are flowers of the same season,
Blossoming in the garden of the same air squadron.
A flower that has blossomed is resolved to fall.
Let us fall splendidly for the sake of our country!