I walked along the river again,
smelling the damp plants and trees from the past.
The mist from those days gently kissed my face again,
awakening my emotions that have been gradually realized,
soothing my soul that still longs for the past.
Nature possesses a rustic beauty that’s raw, wise, imperfect
and yet vivid —
like a poem that cracks me.
The light coming through the cracks is a reflection
of my long-forgotten consciousness
that is yet to be awakened.
Yet the poet who illuminated numerous strands of my emotions
disappeared when he was singing an elegy.