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Personal Note:

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Poem

Why don’t we go together hand in hand? And I shall become tired 
on the way, you and I, plop down on the roadside together, 
look each other in the face and take an undisturbed long rest.
Or if you shall become weary, I sit beside you by the solitary lane,
and when the sun goes down over the western horizon, you and I,
pillowed an arm under the head to calm our thousand emotions 
crowded mind.

When the nights pile up high [It doesn’t affect on you 
or me, if the nights were moon, or the stars, or the clouds,]
the pile of the nights turns into dews. And when dawning sun 
visits us stepping the dews, it is the time, without look back, 
we must go a vagabond’s way as if we were ousted by the whip 
of the cruel persecutor, as if we were driven out by the heartless mobs 
flinging stones.

We go the way though aimlessly
we walk with the weather as it develops to:
if it rains, soaking wet from the rain water for all day,
if the wind rises, beaten by the blowing wind for all day long.

Although in times I wished to be a shimmering heat wave
ascending in air on one of those pleasant sunny day and cross 
over the hill yonder, and walk on the plain lays in other side of the hill.  

However it doesn’t matter any more, if I would cross the hill and walk 
on the plain lays in other side or not because we must live through 
our lives as they are and to our way as we are: 
if you become a piece of drifting cloud as day grows, 
a current of water I become, 
if you become a fog in the dusk, the drips of drizzle I become 
as night deepens in the strange land where I roam.

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