Ambition
By Sanzo-Chan

Sitting back on my windowsill, listening to the rain.
I raise my teacup high, a few drops I catch.
The tranquil night I drink to, the stars shinning high.
Pondering deep while darkness veils the land.

Father used to ask, “Daughter, what is your ambition?”
Eyes full of foolish youth, I’d answer, “I don’t know.”
Now I sighs full of lament, an answer I have but cannot give.
Father rests in his grave, sent by wicked hands.

My ambition now, for justice I fight.
Consumed with anger, consumed with grief.
I am a slave to Vengeance’s will.
Often I cry, “When will I be free?”

A simple life I yearn and want,
A simple life out of reach, I can not have.

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