In the quiet afternoon, throwing stone –
Standing by the gushing river,
Staring blankly at the forest, green forever –
On the other bank; acquiring cloud on its head,
While baking a marvellous sight of light and shade;
Of which, the latter has become fond of me,
Found the heart inside the best place to be;
Leaving the far-off bluish-grey wavy mountain –
Trying to peep through my soul’s curtain,
And thereby stir-up the calm sea;
To unfold the truth and set free –
The gushing river, within me,
So that all can throw stone,
Whenever one will feel alone.
I wish the forest yonder will remain green, forever;
And will continue to flow the gushing river.