Wang Wei lives on the south side
of Huag He, the river of sorrows.
He cannot drag his body, his shadow
he sleeps late and wakes up at dawn
hearing the flute of a lonely man
breaking the quietness of the smoky village.
He feels sick and old in long autumn nights
and watches moon at night missing his
ten summers ago dead wife who made
bird nest's warm soup for him when
had colds on long wintery nights.
Ru Shi, he says, it's not too long
when I'll be with you. He rolls in bed
tries to get a wink of sleep to face
the long lonely next day but cannot
sleep and starts counting sheep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem