Drifted In The Hustle
I stepped into the noisy urban area with colors gay,
Astonished at skirts with silks cheerfully to play,
Ruby lips opening the wings of life's dreams so dear,
And lost my way, straying into this exile's sphere.
My sad age was to be hidden in the poor grey hair;
My empty hands let go any grief like my palms bare.
My shoulder inclined by half the burden of devotion
Made me feel like washed ashore from the ocean.
My inspiration was vast with nostalgia like space,
I wrote popular rhymes to send to my native place
As if to pick up the dead leaves along that war trail
To cast on the sea to conjure up spirits that bewail.
Time immemorial would leave words to posterity
Tho in vicissitudes to love each other with sincerity.
The far Sea Dragon and Mountain Fay will assuage;
I plight to return to our root to saunter in my old age.