Hard to say where my mind was that time
or even what day, month or season it was
when sitting in a middle school classroom
my knees just fitting under the wood desk
the teacher, his hair greyer than his years,
stood and began to recite, with emotion,
Farewell to a Friend, by Li Bai.

As if unleashed, something within me stirred.
Two friends parting as the sun sets in the sky,
one starting out to travel to places far away.
Then, as if guided by the poem just recited,
he turned and drew the images it conjured:
- the hills of the northern border
- clouds roaming above the landscape.

Like a great wind, love for ancient poetry shook me,
a love that, these many years later, does not subside.