(Mmm… mmm…)
By the fire, I open an old book.
"Gon, the Fox."
(ん-…… ん-……)
焚き火のそば、わたしは古い本を開く。
「ごんぎつね」。
VERSE 1 ── ごんの話(前半)
There was a fox. His name was Gon.
He was little, and he wasalone.
He wasnaughty ── he played a trick:
he took an eel and ran.
But then he heardsomething ──
the man's mother died.
And Gon thought, and thought:
"The eel was for her…"
Every day, he broughtchestnuts ──
every day, to the door.
No one saw him. No one knew.
── Did you receive it? Did you receive it?
Every day, I wrote my words ──
every day, for you.
Did you receive them? Did you receive them?
── My words… did they get through?
Every day, I wrote my blog ── for my brother.
Did he read it? I don't know.
That night, on the mountain, I saw him.
He was walkinginto the dark ──
he was walkingthrough a door of night.
I said… nothing. My voice was small.
The door closed.
He went. And I was there, on the ground.
One day, the man saw something at his door ──
a fox! The naughty fox!
He took his gun. ── Bang.
Then he saw the chestnuts on the ground.
"Gon… was it you?"
Gon nodded, little and still.
The smokerose from the gun.
── It was too late. The wordswere too late.
Every day, he broughtchestnuts ── no one knew.
Every day, I write my words ── and now I know:
words at the door are not yetreceived.
So I go through the door!
Brother ── receive my words!
Not later. Not too late.
I say them to you ── to your face, to your heart!
── Receive them! Receive them!