We gather fern which springs up here,Why not return? now ends the year,
Why not return? my heart feels dear,
We left our loved ones to fight the dust Now we are pressed by hunger and lust My heart is burning,
For home I'm yearning,
The war not won,
We cannot rest.
Consoled by none,
We feel distressed.
Still, how gorgeous are the cherry flowers, And how great is the lord of ours,
Long, long the way,
Hard, hard the day.
Lord hadn't left me here,
Alone to shed my tear;
Though Hunger and thist,
Had pressed me the worst,
Yet, soon shall end,
The sorrows of my land,
And people will stand,
No weapons in the hand.
But when shall it be?
Who knows.
will it ever be?
Lord knows.
