"Wachtberg" - Watch Hill That was quietly sleeping on the seabed Hundreds of thousands years ago from now Old memories about the sea, The Watch Hill has been kept watching as it literally implies, With the passage of time To load these assets, I create a boat In the gently sloping hill On chilly rainy days, On warm sunny days, I simply create a boat alone, For, labor resembles prayer for me My boat, boat of mud No where to go No load to bear Binding cause of usefulness Boat destined to decay Dwindling memories falling out of the cracks in the boat bottom Anyone cannot hold things with his hands forever Embracing those ephemeral things Helplessly I watch them falling until they touch a string in my heart Then, let them go flying away Now, time has come to relieve my boat from heavy burden and set it free For, the boat is no longer “my own” one, It’s the boat which I’ve been temporarily taken care of Even a boat of mud may be able to drift freely along the blowing winds, Only when it is set free from binding concept of possession Hoping the boat will return to where it should be Hoping it will return its home |