Kongolia...
Paint brushes are left on your script...
Now you have made scrolls of your own...
Your poem will live to be an immortal shadow...
The night is still dark...
When, the morning comes...
Your poem will brighten...
The name Kongolia will live on...
The name of the nameless immortal Taoist will be you...
Your paint brushes will be the weapon of the Gods...
Your wisdom will be cherish by posterity...
Waking up to face the ceiling...
Someone have walk distance out of my dream...
That someone? ..Was it me...Or was it a wise man...
Speaking to me...?
Telling me...?
Kong Vang
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dream-of-imortality/
