Like a blur, everything goes slow and wise
For the old man on the bamboo raft.
It's after sunset or just before sunrise …
When the river swiftly whispers her magical craft.
He follows … only follows that hanging fire glass
So, the blue grey mist won't blind him in this pass.
His long sturdy stick touches the water bed
To keep him steady to where he is led.
Not too many colors mingling at this hour
Like moments in his life that's both sweet and sour …
When his courage is tested not by the sting of his blade,
But by moving forward even if in the dark, he's afraid.
And so, he moves … this knight of heaven's lakes,
Floating with the moments, fleeting with what he takes -
Whispers of the wind and paintings in the skies …
Treasures all around captured by his eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem