What is sky but water, more water,
crossed by eight bridges?
Is the ancient poet in a rush to reach land?
No, he's already one of the Six Immortals.
How long before the papery iris-petals
he admires wrinkle? They barely grow beards.
In a thousand years, pilgrims will come.
They will stand where he stood. Where, they will ask,
are the flowers that empurpled his poem?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem