Mountains fade into the mist
while a willow's longing pours
into a stream of languid tears,
a faded watercolour tint
from the brush of a master.

Those are the things I saw
as I rode home today.
How sad then I cannot share
with you this beautiful landscape,
for we have no common tongue
to explain the languor of the willows
the flowing of crystal waters
the mythic paradise that lies
beyond mountain and cloud

For all you would say is: don’t be a fool,
that is nothing but a stain of dirt
on an urban skyscraper’s wall.
How sad I am today that you and I,
will never sit under the shade
of the same willow tree.