A Duet with My Younger Brother on the Good Old Days tr By S L Kong
Who could fore-see how life goes settling hither and wither
It would be like a migrant goose running on snow-wet ground to take flight
If by chance on the cold muddy ground a trace is left so bright
Would the flight-bound bird venture to note its whereabouts so it may later titter
Gone is our good friend the monk now replaced by a dagoba among many
The poems we wrote on the temple wall are seen no more with the decay if left with any
You may recall the arduous journeys we had made together
They were so distant and weary even our donkey brayed half way to say it would not bother
To what can our life on earth be likened?
To a flock of geese,
Alighting on the snow.
Sometimes leaving a trace of their passage.