The Basketball Player

He was so tall and I was so short
Daiki shot perfectly; he was a good player
Three points, dunks, and high jumps; infinite was his energy
Then something hurt him inside; in silence he cried

The court got smaller and he was taller than the sky
Eyes like panther’s; his opponents were within his observation
Perfect strategy he had. The black-red team conquered the war
But something hurt him inside; in silence he cried

I remembered he had once told me

"The one who can only beat me is me" 

But the pain hurt him and it was inside of him

Daiki beat himself; in silence he cried

Brontë in a figure of basketball player
A teacher had once told me that Brontë lost her sisters almost at the same time
Daiki’s mom passed away two weeks ago and his grandpa’s turn was last week
It hurt him inside; in silence he cried

I condoled with him on his mom’s demise
“Thank you, Tetsuya,” replied he
Then a smile on his face—the thorn lies beneath his blanket
I knew he was breaking inside; in silence he cried

Daiki was so tall; he was a good player
Infinite his energy was. He got the eyes of a panther
But the pain brought him on his knee
and I could hear that; in silence he cried