On endless mountains, fresh rain has passed,
the sensation of coolness shakes the tall pines.
The migrating geese cannot forget the North,
the river flows always toward the East.
My feeling as a stranger is indifference
like the smooth autumn current.
In my dream of returning home,
the smartweed blossoms are red.
At day’s ending the floating clouds scatter.
Softly humming, I stand in the evening wind.
Translated by Hans H. Frankel and Ian Boyden
[This poem first appeared in the artist book Peach Blossom Fish (Crab Quill Press, 1999.]