I do not know how to be skilled
In leading your sparrows
To the water in the loneliness of remote night
And in leading your birds to the fragrant flowers
In the loneliness of a stump-nosed night.
I used to have a waste memory
And an impromptu sky.
But when you left away
How had you left the stone cottage' door
Open for the coward tiger,
The drunken lark,
And the head-severed lion?