The White Cloud

There are many clouds

But not like the one I see,

For mine floats like a swan in featheriness

Over the River of the Broken Pine.

There are many clouds

But not like the one that goes sailing

Like a ship full of gold that shines,

Like a ship leaning above blue water.

There are many clouds

But not like the one I wait for,

For mine will have a strangeness

Whiter than anything your eyes remember.