Wind Power

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The flame stands straight

On a candle burning itself

In stillness of the night;

An old-authored book at the right

Side imitates the fate

Of a beggar's palms

Waiting for alms;

The candle and the book

Lie on the same nook

In the same room

Under the same roof;

The bitter air outside

Evolves into wind;

It permeates the bamboo walls

That keep nothing fake or false

(For there's nothing to hide);

Unable to read

                It turns the pages;

Without a wish

                It blows the flame out to darkness.

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