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Poem

An autumn night.  
How wondrous is its tranquil stillness,  
The night breeze gently caresses my face.  
Sheep is chew, camels cry, dogs bark,  
All revealing the village’s lively pace.  

Stars twinkle like countless glowing lamps,  
The bright moon above—a beacon, a guide.  
Here I stand, unable to escape my solitude,  
Like an old man left behind by his stride.  

Under the moon, the cranes take flight,  
Their wings whisper through the quiet night.  
They sweep away my soul, carrying off,  
The hollow soul from my chest with their might.  

Though life has taken me far from this place,  
The familiar faces still fill its embrace.  
How dear are the gullies, sands, and streams,  
The grasses and rivers that color my dreams.  

Amid the children playing in delight,  
You spot a familiar face in the night.  
“Aren’t you so-and-so’s child?” you ask,  
“Yes,” they reply, a truth they don’t mask.  

Life’s demands—children, work, and fate,  
Have driven many from the village gate.  
I, too, once soared from this village nest,  
With dreams as boundless as a falcon’s quest.  

Now trapped, like a fly in a spider’s snare,  
City life keeps me restless and ensnared.  
Even it’s been so long since I’ve sipped tea,  
With a steaming samovar beside me.

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