I go up slowly the hills at nights.
Hitting the cheeks, the mild wind blows.
The road on the way, turned off the lights.
Without the words, the river flows.
Along the river, the road lights twinkle,
And look like the endless milky-way.
On the bank, like birds some wagons sprinkle
The lights with rushing the late and dark way.
In the sky, the pinwheel-like stars round the pole.
In dark, the river flows the time.
In the morn, the sun rises for doin' his role,
Again, people wake up and go as the chime.
Ten thousand years the river
Flows with the people who live in by,
Henceforth, for long, it'll be together
With the sons who are and to be, nearby.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem