Winter Night

Father opens European, Dutch books;
Child reads T'ang, Sung verse.
Sharing this single lamp,
each traces his own source.
Father reads on and never rests,
child, tired, thinks of chestnuts, yams.
I'm ashamed I am, in spirit, so far from father,
who, eighty years of age, has no mist in his eyes.
Translation: 
Language: 
Author of original: 
Ema Saiko
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.