Why do the clock-hopperssing,
And fever rustle
And dry stove crackle --
It is red silk burning.
Why do the mice grind with their teeth
The slender ground of life --
A swallow has loosened
My shuttle for her daughter.
Why does rain murmur on the roof --
It is black silk burning,
But the cherry blossom will hear,
And on the bottom of the sea, forgive.
Because of the death of the innocent
And with no way to help,
In a nightingale's fever,
There is still a warm heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem