Travellers pass,
Searching today and tomorrow
For new roads to happiness.
I cannot know their hearts;
Perhaps they are loaded with grief,
Perhaps they are lightened with joy.
Merely to survive the chill of dawn
Or the heart of evening,
These travellers are forever on the move;
Though buffeted, they hold to the road.
Where do these countless travellers
Come from, you ask, where do they go?
They come from sojourns with tragedy
To seek out paths of hope.
The poet Wakayama Bokusui writes,
How many hills and rivers must we cross
To reach a land without loneliness?
We set out again today…
The people of such a land
Have dreams,
Gardens which joy can flower in,
Arenas for democracy,
Unerring ideals,
A stage for all to act upon.
Travellers, advance and I shall follow
On Man’s endless trek
From paths of wrath to paths of joy.
