In The Farmer’s Way

When I soil in my paddy-field

In eye’s glimpse, clouds are sailing

In the sky it begins a battle-voyage,

Soon it turns a day of black in its path.

The wind makes its queer sound

Old thirsty leaves roam to and fro,

Some rumors come from hell, run!

He gropes his way, full of dusts.

A thunder makes a dilemma-heart,

On the way he beholds nature’s ebb,

In a heavy wind the rooted trees,

Cottage houses come fall, Run! Run!

No destination, no paths for me,

In nature’s key all fellow depart!

When I recall the direction I run,

No sounds, I hear the empty houses.

A torrent wind now moves slowly,

A wishful thinking the day after meet,

When I wake out of swoon all around

See a new world within me.