An old philosopher sleeping in the lily fields
Dreams the air is filled with cotton seeds
As white as the cloudy sky, as free as his thoughts.
A young lass dance with cotton seeds
Light seeds freed by the monsoon winds
As calming as tea, as unpredictable as her emotions.
The sad man, infected, smiles as he yields
Watching the young lady, he stopped picking up lily reeds
As plenty as pieces of broken glass, as dead as his soul.