At night a beautiful soul cries and
—that girl is the one, but—
at night a beautiful soul cries,
“I may as well die…” she says.
Across the damp field’s black earth, short grass,
the night wind is blowing and
“I may as well die, I may as well die,”
says the beautiful soul.
At night, the sky high above, wind blowing delicately
—there was nothing I could do but pray…
— Nakahara Chuya, Little Sister