Being called by her friends
My little daughter was climbing down the stairs
Slowly, feeling her way in the dark
And screening a candle with her scarf.
In the starlit night of spring
I was loitering on the roof.
All on a sudden
I heard my daughter was crying
Hurriedly I got down and found
Blown by the wind
Her candle had gone out.
I asked her, ‘My child,
What has happened?’
Sobbing she replied from below,
‘I have got lost.’
Returning to the roof
I looked at the star-studded sky
And it seemed
A child just like my daughter
Was also journeying alone with her candle
Protecting its flame
With the blue screen of the sky
If her candle went out
She would also have stopped
And echoing the void
She would also have cried,
‘I have got lost.’
