My aim is to be like the bamboo shoot
So strong in its roots, and so flexible above;
When a Strong wind blows, it bends,
But never breaks.
It gives the strength to wild grass to grow,
Carefree on its roots; around it, enmeshing it.
Little pins and needles seem stuck in my heart;
Bleeding it at inappropriate moments.
The more they push themselves in,
Like a bamboo tree, I shall grow higher;
Reach towards the skies, touch the stars,
WIth stars on each of my fingertips.
I shall see dreams of fairies and love.
Somwhere beyond the horizon,
My dreams will take flight, like birds.
Then this simple rooted thing,
Would have taken flight.
No sudden pangs of heartache,
Will then caress that dream's heart.
