One cannot be at peace in a place where there is no sound at all.
Something can be heard, or at least a sound that reaches the ear.
Signs of a tranquil person
Subtle external signs
Responds softly, as with a partition and tatami mat
Tranquility like that within a Kuramure storehouses.
Spring’s bitterness is remembered by the body
Summer’s effort brings vitality to the body
Autumn’s ingathering fills the body’s every fold
Winter’s nip protects the body
From the sea of Otaru, from the earth of Niseko
Looking up to a plateau on which cluster Kuramure storehouses, with fragrance wafting forward
The pleasantness felt ten years ago.
The personnel evolve, the fixtures also evolve
Memories are carved as time passes bit by bit
In Kuramure, memories stored by the five senses
mature over time
And bring forth the unchanging deep pleasure even ten years later.
The wood is faintly aromatic
Perfectly warm water gushes from the hot water spout as enveloping steam flows around.
Passing through the earth
The emerging spring water slips past the skin and soaks into the core.
Fragrance arising from a newly-green forest
Tang of water at a sudden evening shower
Pungent sunny aroma of red-tinted leaves
Soft dryness of powdery snow.
The Kuramure storehouses stand among the aromas of the seasons.
A landscape of storehouses, seen once.
Somewhere, a landscape, with nostalgic ancient storehouses.
From days of old, a storehouse is a place to protect precious things.
The secure feeling is like that of an unborn baby sleeping in its mother’s womb.
Purity and stillness prevail.
Relax and unfold, free of worry.
