The words he writes are filled with love, It must have been his true feelings The words he speaks give people courage Never been wrong and there is no doubt about it His sole agony, he thinks to himself Why does it have to be like this? Trying to leave it on the riverbank Beside a mother cuddling her baby “Sharpen your pencil” That was his father’s saying The sharpened edge becomes round as he keeps writing “Father, we can’t turn back, can we, right?” Trembling, he wrote down the line with all his might He was born on the cold rails, And that was his way to proceed He can go anywhere he wants to go But that was only allowed on those rails His sole agony, he thinks to himself Why does it have to be like this? Trying to leave it on the riverbank Next to a mother cradling her child “Sharpen your pencil” That was his father’s saying The sharpened edge becomes round as he keeps writing “Father, we can’t turn back, can we, right?” Trembling, he wrote down the line with all his might “Sharpen your pencil” That was his father’s saying The sharpened edge becomes round as he keeps writing As his father taught him, when he sharpened the pencil, The shorter it became, the shorter it became “I want to see you, mother” He wrote it down with his trembling hand