Street Scenes Revisited (traduit du chinois)
The old house still stand,
Despite the storms through the years.
I have grown grey in my lone wonderings,
Reflecting on my solitude toward heaven.
I have seen snow-capped peaks in June,
Seagulls sleeping on the beach of south seas.
Miles of lotuses separating heaven and earth,
The pink of spring in fallen apples blossoms.
A lonely cloud frozen by the emerald hill,
White egrets prancing in a graceful dance.
With my brush I journey on desert tracks,
Through sandstorms I hear bells of the caravans.
I search from my old dream in the moonlight,
Fragments of an old song from winding verandas.
The paint on doors and windows is peeling off,
Crickets are crying at the foot of the wall.
There is great Order in the whole universe,
Determining when everything forms or stays.
Now as I return to my old residence,
How the folks and the street have changed.
Only the banyan tree remains the same,
Perched with flocks of birds at dusk and dawn.
Look at the sunflower under the tree,
And how every blooms plucks light from the sun.
It’s now a whole new world,
Where peace and quiet keeps out the noisy one.
While I toil tirelessly stroke after stroke,
Each of them a brush with the truth and innocence.
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