where I instruct the young
of this tropical land I cross
over the road which skirts
the east bank of the River Han.
River? To me this afternoon
it seems more like a stream
its waters severely depleted
by the mid-summer drought.
This will change when autumn
rains, tempests and typhoons
will swell this river once again
to flood the great alluvial plain.
But not today as I watch the egrets
hunt lazily in the limpid shallows
replete with fish, the languid current
seeming to carry my troubles away.
My mind thus briefly succumbs
to this quiet river’s summer spell
almost beguiled by the peaceful
tranquility of this noonday scene.
Yet I know
as the birds do not know
that the storms will come.