Shunkin's Bitter Confession Lyrics by Cynthia Hopkins
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Gray sky. A rooster crows.
Bitter, I look out on thickets and folds.
I haven’t shaken grief’s rattle, yet it clatters.
I haven’t rung sorrow’s bell, yet it tolls.
Their noise only drags me down, angry
with a fate that says I’m much too bold.
Men of talent, learned men, where are you?
Am I supposed to walk as if stooped and old?
Gray sky. A rooster crows.   Bitter, I look out on thickets and folds.   I haven’t shaken grief’s rattle, yet it clatters.   I haven’t rung sorrow’s bell, yet it tolls.   Their noise only drags me down, angry   with a fate that says I’m much too bold.   Men of talent, learned men, where are you?   Am I supposed to walk as if stooped and old?