On a night where anything can happen
follow the trail of red lanterns
into backstreets heavy with anticipation
where the pulse of society crackles at your fingertips
Otoshida arimasuka?
Ikura desuka ka?
Nomihoudai!
Tabehoudai!
Come, come
Down into the rabbit hole
To worship at the altar of crooners
Humming to jazz on that old jukebox in the corner
Watch salarymen rub shoulders with wastrels
Bonding at the banquet fit for a shogun
Yakitori, yakisoba, yaki-get me another beer
No, make it sake
Gingo, schminjo
Drink until the break of dawn
And stagger back into the half-formed world
Called Monday
Yamato Magazine 
始めまして！！
腹の底に響きました。
ありがとうございました！！
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I read a detailed article on your festival “bone”, (may be it has a different pronunciation) in which you remember your deceased.
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Interesting. That reminds me of the Shinto funeral practice of Kotsuage.
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