Carrying those worn out, their day’s work done,
The train unburdened, creaks along rusty rails,
Its journey, unhurried, to the day’s end.
I ponder what in this vast world,
Drains the spirit so profoundly, leaves the heart so weary.
Faces, devoid of life, cling to straps,
Bathed in the crimson glow of the setting sun.
Hands that once held laughter, now hold bags,
Each a story, a silent page.
Stylish outings, weighty commutes,
Cloth for students, their youthful pursuits,
All slightly tainted by time’s gentle blot,
Memories etched in each well-worn spot.
Unbutton them, and you’d see,
From each bag, a sigh of resignation spill forth.
The one clutching their bag tight,
Surely the most wounded, heart aching,
Desperately trying to seal away unrest.
And so, like all, I too must confess,
Sealed many thoughts in my bag’s recess.
Tightly bound with resignation’s spell,
Boarding the train, my thoughts to quell.
As the crimson sunset casts its glow,
From unguarded bags of those asleep,
Countless regrets, on the verge of tears,
Peek out, secretly watching the twilight’s grace.
From the student’s bag, too absorbed in study,
A long, weary sigh escapes,
Tired from the relentless academic chase.
I pretend not to see,
For I believe, with certainty,
That bags filled with today’s weary thoughts,
Will brim with hope by tomorrow’s light,
And dance with joy in someone’s hand, so bright.
【Japanese version】