It's the simple things in life that bring us joy.
Though life, I have learned, is not at all,
Simple…
When the moon rose last night on the winter snow,
I stood, alone, beside my window,
And watched the last of spring's birds fly away…
Lucky birds…
Fore there I stood, unable to fly,
To run, to jump, to flee this place,
To even leave this room…
It's almost amusing, that the family god spends his whole life…
In his tomb.
Perhaps I'm bitter, yes, I know.
I won't deny it, whatever I may be I'm not a fool!
But I'm not a god either…really…more like a tool,
And the family will use me as long as it can,
Before they throw me away.
My family… my family… they are all I have,
It's the little things in life, isn't it?
Well, isn't it?
That is all I have, that is all I've ever had.
What is wealth when you never spend it?
What is silk when you cannot mend it?
What is finery? Art? Music, or dance…
What value does anything hold, in mortal hands…
My years, short they linger here,
And none can say if by the year…
My candle will have spent its flame,
Never to be lit again.
…So while I breathe, with every breath,
I'll clutch my family till death.
And since they're all that belongs to me,
Never for another, will, they, be.
It's the simple things in life…
… Isn't it?
Well, isn't it?
…Hari?