About

The sacred story of discussing the sun Always originated only in places with their backs to the sun. Even on nights when moonlight poured down like rain As we wandered through the crumbling fortress ruins When, truly when, would we be able to welcome A whole sun into our sky? Did we not speak and speak, clutching our chests, And clutch our chests in agony? In the meantime, there are friends lost forever. In the meantime, there are friends who have left for far away. In the meantime, there are friends who have sold their bodies. In the meantime, there are friends who have sold their souls. In the meantime, finally, thirty-six years have passed. In this sky that I look up to again The winter night moon is still cold But in the coming spring, embracing the sun that pours like a fountain I shall lie nestled warmly in a thicket of flowers on some hill. -Poem, Thicket of Flowers- 1945, running toward Liberation.