In old age,
Quiet is cherished for thinking,
The mind’s heart.

Body’s heart,
Untouched by the worldly cares
Now too old.

I wander,
The pines of my childhood days,
Freely moves.
Nothing proves,
No barrier blocks my way,
I wonder.

A tune plays,
Mingling with silver moonlight
And mountains.

And you ask,
What is Success and Failure,
To you now.

And I say,
From river a fisherman’s song
drifts to shore.