Classic Poem

In the sorrowful rain and saddening clouds,
The land south to the River is still a beauty as ever.
From the waterside village and the fishing market,
A lone tress of smoke snakes upward.

A file of expeditionary geese stitched together
Worms along the edge of sky.
All the events will be uneventful when a life
Is transfixed at this moment, while no one
Would understand another leaning over a balustrade.