I can be at ease.
If I open one, I agonize.
Books are long, and days are short,
feeling like an ant
who wants to move a mountain,
or a man who waits for dawn light
with a candle in his hand.
Often I read, I might remember one.
The more's the pain,
that in a thousand years
there'll be more books, no end.
So if I wish I were a spirit-being,
or pray Heaven for a few more years….
it's not that I want to dine on dew,
or wander fairylands…
every word that's written
to read each one, that's all.
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