The source

The undulating wood slopes down

to the rhythm of mountain streams….

If you want to find the source,

you have to go up, against the current,

tear through, seek, don’t give up,

you know it must be somewhere here.

Where are you, source? Where are you, source?!


Stream, stream in the wood,

tell me the secret of your beginning

(Silence—why are you silent?

How carefully you have hidden the secret of your beginning).

Allow me to wet my lips

in spring water,

to feel its freshness,

reviving freshness.