Original subtitles

Dear Hiroko!

...and the last night I had no dreams...

But did I sleep or was it non-existance already...

As I opened my eyes I saw the same candle and heard still the same...

...rumble of wheels and murmur of the wind...

My journey to your sad country is not yet completed, and here in Russia

I am not able to part with the feelings which hold me captive...

My soul seemed to be in search of beauty and kindness.

Otherwise - what for did I deserve this gift, this encounter...

I got to the place in the twilight.

The sound of the wind and my tiredness gave me no rest...

I lay on the floor, there was a little lamp at the head,

my bedding was on the mat...

For some reason I thought of war

and pictures of unknown life appeared in my mind...

maybe from the past,

or perhaps, of the future...

Somebody's children...

Somebody's mothers...

Warm summer...

Morning was windy, cold and sunny...

I looked around the house carefully.

The house was empty...

Then I remember, I turned at some squeak...

It seemed she did not notice me...

I decided to come nearer...

I remember well how everything became interesting:

...walls. utensils, the wind,

light, sounds - all her life.

We agreed that she allows me to stay

near her all the time.

All those hours and minutes, which I was

allowed to spend in her old house,

she let me sit near her.

I needed it to see enough of her, to my heart's content.

she sews kimonos to sell...

...I have never seen

how they sew mourning kimono.

Ashes are hot:

she warms up a little iron and warms her fingers...

What a delicate,

what a solid construction:

the house is 130 years old...

Walls and doors are glued over with paper, everything is breathing,

in everything there is persistence,

obstinancy and immutability...

A hundred-year old timber, carving...

Temperature is a little above zero,

the doors are opened... It is cold in the house...

Not a single warm place...

Earthen floors are seen everywhere.

It seemed, she wanted to tell me something

but she kept silent...

I kept silent too...

It is time to start on my journey.

I was looking at her house and felt almost

sure that I should never see it again.

I waited for her in the main room of the house

Candles were burning...

I could see a figurine of Buddha...

She told me she would read her poems

at parting.

In the late autumn A tiny brook is moving

My heart is breaking with sorrow

Every morning In a little temple

I pray for my children

From the ravine will the rains ever summon

the cuckoos' voices

Ten years have passed Since I have lost my husband

Still the pain and bitterness

Are in my heart, like thorns.

Late autumn quietness Finds consolation

in bamboo pipe's sounds.

The married daughter of mine Does not think of me

As I - mother think of her

It is sad to be waiting... in my isolated

mountainous place Somehow unnoticed

The crickets stopped to sing

Snowstorm is coming

Bending softly and gracefully

To a streamlet murmur

is the white lily

Seeing off another year

I see deeper sadness

Ah, the autumn moon...