A little, homesick, I suppose, translated…
The Boats Had, Slid Across the Waters Silently Unnoticed in the Rain
The Water Listened Closely
To the Sound of Time, Standing Still on the Lake
It’d Been Told, that Time Had Been Gone, a Very Long Time Ago
After the Clouds Returned for a Visit
not my photo…
They’d Come to
A Corner of the Roof of a Certain Tall Building in the City
And, Rained Down Gently
You’d Read Aloud that Water Mark of You Leaving Home Back Then
Those Memories You’d Let Go of Became Like
That Small Deer that’s Turned Its Head
The Maple Trees Left that Dampened Shadow in Isolation
Seeming Distant Yet Very Close by
The Bells Rung from the Tower Sat in a Straight Line
Locked Up in the Events of History in 1949
Still, Trying to Escape, in Its Dream State
Those Passengers that Were Lifted Away by the Ships Boat by Boat
Then, it Took, that Last Scent of Nostalgia Too from the Island
Lalu, Lalu
What Passed by, Were All Those Moments of the Past We Couldn’t
Hold onto
And the Gods Had, Retreated, Leaving Behind
A Forgotten Word that’s Become
A Tear in a Prayer, that’s Slowly, Reduced in Size
There’s that strong sense of loss from this, that scent of leaving behind what one loved and knew so well, to go elsewhere, for whatever reasons there may have been, and the narrator’s heart is, tied, to her/his homeland, and s/he keeps on turning her/his head homeward bound, never, to see her/his own homeland in the distance, it’s really, such, an immense sort of loss to experience here.