Some morrow, I will go back to that familiar hamlet;
But are still there those who did see me leave?
The old people these days have been without any news,
Do they understand just about missing them I grieve?
Some morrow, I will get back to that beloved road
Where the rainy wind rocked lampshades on the wall.
The evening path, the night alley, those dreamy dates...
Who knows if until now she has kept tears yet to fall.
Some morrow, I will make to that ancient street
With daisy to bloom in the sun, and kids to drool:
My Mom attended to me in the flamboyant gorgeous,
School-children seen off and picked up after school.
Some morrow, I will return to that antique district
To recall silhouettes of pitiable elders in poor situation
In the dark shadow of a late and lean harvest,
Unaware their plight slacks off my poetic inspiration.
Some morrow, I will fly back to that old township
To discuss our vow to restore our dear fatherland,
Night after night without sleep, assemble, congregate,
Determined to end the evil, but firstly united we stand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem