Life was an idyll sung by angels
in the humble home; far away from the traffic hid,
their haven where nothing happened except simple peace and love.
As days went by, they were blessed with a son
who grew up strong and happy like the Pine in the wood.
But Time has its mists ,
woven sometimes by threads of dreams
and sometimes shattered by an axe.
On an evening when Matsuo returned home
he found his lady listless and sad.
She lifted her eyes with resolve and gave him
a look as if to break away
from a bond that she could not sustain;
as if her strength failed and nothing could hold her back.
"They are at it once again.
I could feel the first blow on my limb,
and this time it is the end.
It is time for me to go.
The parole has come to an end.
in the humble home; far away from the traffic hid,
their haven where nothing happened except simple peace and love.
As days went by, they were blessed with a son
who grew up strong and happy like the Pine in the wood.
But Time has its mists ,
woven sometimes by threads of dreams
and sometimes shattered by an axe.
On an evening when Matsuo returned home
he found his lady listless and sad.
She lifted her eyes with resolve and gave him
a look as if to break away
from a bond that she could not sustain;
as if her strength failed and nothing could hold her back.
"They are at it once again.
I could feel the first blow on my limb,
and this time it is the end.
It is time for me to go.
The parole has come to an end.
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