Bài số 13 13

13

Little songs and little things come to my mind this morning.
I seem to be floating on a stream in a boat, passing by the world on both banks.
Every little scene gives a sigh and says, 'I go.'
World's pleasure and pain, like brother and sister, lift their pathetic eyes upon my face from afar.
Homely love peeps from her cottage corner to give me her passing glance.
With eager eyes I gaze from my heart's window on to the heart of the world.
And feel that with all its good and bad it is lovable.