Under the bridge where a mountain stream flows
We go fishing for our favorite numb aqua pets.
They don't bite at bait, but it don't make no never mind.
Thin starving crows are flying low in the blue.
We feed them grapes; they are satisfied and happy.
Water rats are curious: we look like geeks to them.
Unlike us, they don't feed on grass and hunt at night.
Our tortoises are thirsty and enjoy swallowing milk.
They ain't brain-burned and gonna live hundreds
Of tranquil careless years, surviving all of us.
When you flash your bittersweet smile at me,
I know exactly what on your mind is:
Yeah, we are dead ringers for those ETs, and else,
There ain't no grim reaper, just the altered karma.
A sad farewell might grow into an ecstatic hello
As soon as we are reunited at heaven's gate.
I hear the angel of forgiveness spreading his wings:
No more tears, no stabbing pain, just bliss of pure love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.