I just walked down the road for my evening shop -
on my left the ocean laps the soft sand in the dark -
on my right, from the light of an open window -
(it's a warm November night in mid-Japan)
an unknown someone tinkles the piano keys, alone -
practising her piece until her lover gets back home?
The eternal on the one side, the ephemeral on the other -
rhythm and melodies merge in a melancholic flood:
Now I'm walking up the track in the early evening sun -
the end of a day out working in the woods -
to the sound of my loved one, playing from within,
waiting for her man to come back home.
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