Where Have You Been So Long

Where are you going, my sorrowed one,

through these narrow alleyways?

Why are you a stranger, my exiled one,

with tears upon your face?

Where have you been so long,

that you had forgotten us—

to see the green mountain again,

to drink water from the spring?

To take a walk through the village,

to see your kin once more—

where have you been so long?

What was it that kept you away before?

As he walked along the road,

he heard the little children say:

“Who is that old man

with so little hair this way?”

He remembered that in this village

he had once lived his life.

He longed for a sip of water—

but the fountain was gone from sight.

He remembered, before he left,

where all his relatives stayed.

He ran to go and find them—

but they had all passed away.

The only thing he still knew well,

that had not changed at all,

were the green mountains

that circled the village like a wall.

He lowered his weary head

and walked as if to leave,

when in the fading dusk

a courtyard gate he saw unlatch.

“Come, my exiled one,”

a voice called soft and near,

“rest here for just a moment,

have some water, calm your fear.”

They looked into each other’s eyes—

and saw their parents there.

“Ah! It’s me—your sister!” she cried,

and they broke down in shared despair.