The sky ravels what is up for the day.
Unrest its clouds, scuttle by the Eastern wind.
Restless, like thin sheets of paper scatter away.
No one knows where they head.
Or, do they go far beyond?
Like no other, air heaves.
Warm like the boiling water in the kettle.
Like what inside the balloon,
When it goes up to the million of dusts.
Does captain know would they come back?
Calmness is tide of the sea, ebb.
Uncertain when it stays in stronghold.
Today the car runs on the dryness of the road.
A minute after slips with the moist,
Of fallen dews of inclement weather.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem