Utako had not heard until after the end of the war that the child had died in the care of the person who took it.
'But-do you think the child really died? ' Utako said.
Jiro looked away.
'Sometimes I think that it might still be alive, you know-possibly.'
'I'm certain that it's dead.'
'If it's alive, do you think if I met it somewhere-do you think I would know? '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem