I stare out in the meadows, in search of the poetic sky;
But all I find is golden grass and dark smoke rising high.
The uncertain smoke that questions and bothers my mind;
A question whose answer we all strive to find.
Often in this hustle is this question not answered;
Often in this confusion it is not even pondered.
Yet the answer to this question is as simple as a smile;
Why to worry about the journey, lets just travel mile by mile.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem