In the depths of night
guitar playing
pierces the night sky
like a lonely wild goose
looking for its lost home,
like a vigorous eagle
flying towards
the farthest blue sky.
In the depths of night
guitar playing
draws an audience
rushing with a whistling sound,
not cold wind,
but spirits from afar
standing quietly outside the window
wavering, listening, sighing.
In the depths of night,
guitar playing
elicits no response
from the weary workers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem