Flow in a long stream, I fall into a deep dream. Waving smoke with rosy glow, Lightly red the bamboo grove; In the brilliant gloam, I see some fire worms, They shine, they light, Cross the field, through the hill, Finally sit on a farmer’s hat; The man stumbles along the track, Husky and a little laze, His distant voice echoes around: “Go back home—Go back home—”
I wake suddenly with a start, The city lives fast still tonight, A sea of neon, reflect in my eyes; The world is glossy, but mine is clumsy; I just hope, not to be shoved forward. And the time I look back, My hometown will just be there; And the time I listen for, The distant echoes will just be here: “Go back home—Go back home—” Linger round with no end.