The heart
might have poison
that the self
doesn't understand

Life's inevitable nexus:
'What next?'

Every tear
has a tale to tell
but the self
might not understand
its true content

My religion
is humanism
and my heart
is close to its region

The past
will not be silent:
it has wounds
that still last

The smile of an old man
can't be the same
as that of a young person-
but the latter would not understand

Not for me
the laurel
I don't qualify
at all-
simple poetry
I write only
as my muses call

masters
of the past
each at
their sublimest
that I recall

they are
the light
I'm just
the shadow
far, far away
from their poetic hall

yet, driven
by steps
large or small

up the writing wall
I must climb
my heart's desire
to fulfil
ere
my life's nightfall