My own feelings toward the 70th anniversary of the end of World War II — and the anniversaries of the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in particular — are complicated.

I grew up in Japan. My grandmother was Japanese and my grandfather was American. In fact, he was in the United States Air Force at the time of the war. I've had to grapple with guilt, rage and victimization — all before the age of 18.

My friends didn't help much (but I don't hold that against them). When I claimed my Japanese side here, my friends would quickly point out I was American. When I was in the States, my friends there would point out my Japanese heritage. In either case, I was always on the other side.

There have been a lot of songs about Japan's disasters, and a good deal of them come from "the other side": Wanda Jackson's "Fujiyama Mama," Kate Bush's "Breathing" and Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark's "Enola Gay" to name a few.

Many Japanese artists have tackled the subject, too. One song that has always had an effect on me is Hibari Misora's 1974 ballad "Ippon no Enpitsu" ("One Pencil"). While non-Japanese artists tended to use the bomb to deal with larger fears of the Cold War, "One Pencil" focuses on one woman's final moments as the Aug. 6 bombing happens. It never gets overly political, a quality that has earned it fans in Japan.

The music was written by composer Masaru Sato, who often scored films. He presents a simple structure consisting of two distinct parts that are lyrically separated by a farewell to an absent lover and a message to the wider world. The orchestration builds on a very simple rhythm that crescendos for each section of the song. It's dramatic, yet effective.

Misora's voice is what really ties everything together. It is kind, soft and casual, and in a way it reminded me a bit of Edith Piaf's French chanson style.

The lyrics to "One Pencil" were written by filmmaker Zenzo Matsuyama in 1974 and they detail the thoughts one woman has before dying. She wants to leave a message to a lover, but she doesn't have the means to do so:

If I had a pencil,

I'd write of my love for you.

If I had a pencil,

I'd write that I don't want war.

If I had a piece of paper,

I'd write how I wish I'd had kids.

If I had a piece of paper,

I'd write that I want you back.

The simplicity of conveying the things that are going through someone's head during a pivotal moment of their lives can be very effective. Tori Amos used the same approach when describing her own sexual assault in the song "Me and a Gun."

I think what really hits me about "One Pencil" is that this kind of confession is rare in Japan. When I spoke to music critic Masahisa Segawa for the first installment of this column, I asked him if he wanted to share any of his own experiences from the war. However, he pursed his mouth and remained silent. This isn't an unusual response when asking many elderly people in Japan about the war.

According to reports, rocker Eikichi Yazawa originally pushed back at the idea of releasing his 1987 song "Flash in Japan," which deals with the atomic bombings. The track was supposedly part of a plan to break him in the American market Warner Records hoped to evoke the image of a Japanese Bruce Springsteen who sang political songs.

Yazawa is from Hiroshima and his father died from radiation poisoning, so when asked to sing a song about the atomic bomb for an American audience, Yazawa worried that it was exploitative. In the end, however, he released it.

The track is a stadium-rock ballad that makes interesting use of MIDI sequencing and distorted power chords, with Yazawa singing lyrics written by American Michael Lunn.

Songs that dealt with the atomic bombings were rare following the actual events of 1945. As time has passed, musicians have tackled the subject more often — particularly after the 1986 Chernobyl and 2011 Fukushima nuclear disasters. Many of these songs have served as arguments against nuclear power, but Misora, who eloquently relays a human account of the bombing, may have provided the strongest argument of all of them.

This is the fourth part in a five-part series about the music the Japanese were listening to at the end of World War II.