Nothing was ever so perfect
As that little town,
Sheltered by trees
And caressed by the wind
Off the freshwater sea.
I would have chosen it
A thousand times over—
If only my childhood home
Had not been a wildfire.

Nothing was ever so sweet
As the first blossom of friendship,
Blooming at last
When the smoke of calamity cleared.
I could have strolled that garden,
Forever lost in your laughter,
But the leaves from there,
In steeping, turned bitter.

Never were disasters so frequent—
Friends and neighbors falling,
To the right and to the left.
Dread falls like rain,
And yet, in these days,
I am finally free,
And I finally have you.

Sorrow and joy fall
Discordant in every season,
Yet through them all,
Hope—my guiding light—
Remains.