It was perilous to pass into the valley,
Trapped by hills and the magnetic forces fallen there.
Each exerts a pull, like a lodestone drawing me in;
I have known this place ever since my journey.
To traverse this icy terrain is bitter and painstaking;
With every moment, my knuckles are grazed by frostbite,
Heightening the stark struggle of life’s relentless race.
This is my diary, stitched into the mind with rock salt,
Brewed with wild meadows in the vessels of memory.
Rather than racing along artificial, electric tracks
To bypass the risks and hurdles of the human mind,
I choose the path beneath the sprawling roots of trees.
Far below, in dark ocean depths, a tethered shark rages,
Ready to seize its enemies in a single glance—
As if Saturn and Jupiter have aligned to banish all life
From the waves and waters of the deep Atlantic.
Yet, like the sweet voice in a maiden’s dream—
One who is unwed, yet entirely immersed in the moon—
My diary provides the wisdom needed to endure.
It speaks for the soil where nature freely flourishes,
Growing vibrant leaves through the turn of day and night,
To offer a sanctuary of everlasting peace.