野 Yeah

He

Slowly steps out of himself,
His shadow leaves his body.
One asks: What is the wild?

The wilderness has no words,
Yet speaks of everything.

See the lovely flowers by the roadside, the soft clouds,
Or the stroke on the wooden sign of a café door.
The world unfolds completely before the eyes.
That afternoon, lying still on the rocks,
The roaring motor of the waves turns into a train running through the body.

One cannot understand oneself through a questionnaire,
But can let others understand.
Meeting “Proust” once more,
Passing through the river of time,
Would the questions and answers still be the same?