Mountain Hut
by RI Kohr
When was the last time I visited here?
It is now near the end of summer, and once was the end of autumn.
A misty rain was falling in that small hut.
I held my hands over the stove and dried my shoes.
I was young, all were young.
Ah, I have always wished a scene like that day.
A bright fire, hot tea, and a hard chair.
If only those things could last,
I have thought most of my life would have been fulfilled.
Here today,
it is a really lively place.
People's voices are coming and going, and corns are being sold outside.
It is difficult to think of the dark, gloomy sky of a long time ago.
My heart is not troubled now, but the dark scenery of the past might be my heart itself.
But at that time,
still the stove was burning red in the center of the hut.
My beloved,
I have walked from the place at the end of that chilly autumn.
To the place warm with you.
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