Omen
One says that when the sun becomes a moon
the moon turns into the stars, and when the stars
descend on the earth they become dewdrops,
and by the time when a pair of birds come
and sit on a treetop where the dews sojourn,
the flowers will bloom in the expanse of hither field
and the top of yonder hill.
Although, as one says, there is a tree standing by the river of time
that grew from the dews the fallen stars laid; there is a pair of birds soaring above the summit of mountain that countless suns piled up high in order to reach the top of sky; there is a plain that many moons gathered and became an expanse where ends do not meet; no where can the flower bloom be found in the vast space.
Nonetheless, for the river must ceaselessly move along, though
a passing time may leave affection in the cove where behind the water stands still for a while, it was washed away by the surfs and vanished under footsteps came with the wind in the heart of a never affiliated beloved. For a sorrowful time has been destined not to bear a bloom, the sun of the day, the moon of the night, and the stars of the dark, fade away as a flower that never has been borne, in the heart of a never existed beloved.
Copyright ©
Su Ben | Year Posted 2015
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