Translated…
The Vines that Became Tigers, Crawling All Over the Walls, with the Green Eyes, Gazing Out at Time that Tilted
The Sun’s Slow and Trembling Moods
Fell Down Like the Rain
Breaking Open the Dreams, then Left Behind, the Sounds of Separation
The Window Faced Toward Life Started, Blooming Now
Adding Some Honey to the Days that Pass by
The Bees Circled the Small House in Flight
Calling Out
Recalling the Night, the Small Path Lying in the Darkness Had
Sent a Whistling Man from Someplace Foreign
The Light Illuminated His Face
On One Side, There’s the Swamps
On the Other, the Open Plains
With Only Those
Silent Stars, Twinkling in the Skies
The Poetry in the House All Climbed into Bed Now
A Cuckoo Bird Hid, in the Ancient Clock Hung on the Wall
Cuckoo, Cuckoo
It’d Always Managed, to Call Out the Light
Waken Us All from the Darkened Nights Hidden in the Stories
But the Rooster Lived, on the Equator, as the Clouds Floated by One by One
Like the Squirrels, Jumping Through All Those Imaginary Branches into the Abyss, Leaving Behind, This, Barrenness
We Would Sometimes Return, Sometimes, We’d, Leave
For a Very, Very, Very Long Time
Forgotten, that We’d Made a Home Here, Once
So, these, are the things that are, left behind, those fairytales, nursery rhymes of our childhood years, and, as we’d abandoned these things that made us children, we have NO idea what we’re leaving behind, until we looked back…but by then, it’s, too late, for us, to get all we’d lost, thrown away, back again………
Life, the Obstacle Course 