“Among the trees, Through the playful leaves, Where the sun and moon light Can barely shine through, There will be my soul. Tendering to the fire, Knowing I will be back Knowing when I will be back. She has prepared a seat for me, It has been raining and I am all wet I have been fighting and I am dirty She places a warm blanket on my shoulders, Gives ma a bowl of soup, Before I venture out again. I will venture out again.”