Someone is walking

Walk on the rut, whose

feet are weak and defeated,

we who

love such uncreated sects made by our journey

Witness

the yellow bamboo clumps standing in the way

that the wind is singing in them

the dreams wrapped with it are our dreams,

On the fringes of the swaying horizon;

the clouds in the sky trembling by the choir, the mounds lying with musical instruments,

waiting for the river to be formed,

Everyone is being formed somewhere, the faith which is in us is only with the help of that resolution.

Walk on the rut, whose

feet are weak and defeated,

we

love such uncreated sects created by our journey.