Hunter’s Path

The words of an old hunterOne day I’ll become truly oldTime will be like a tiny birdpassing through the forest fogfloating way above my foreheadA bird like golda bird like silverhovering, caressingold, senile meIt will be like a small nameless riverIt will be like a love song without lyricsAnd then I’ll quietly say to you:In my old eyesthere won’t be any shadows of winter duskand there won’t be any infatuation of sunset after autumnThere will only be the childlike tearsflowing from my eyesIf you taste themthey’ll have the sweetness of first love

Therefore, I silently, silentlylet memories and love fill my pathTherefore, I won’t ever, ever againlose my way because of youth and naïvetéThe old rifle in my handwill support my body and my headRight now I want to loudly declare to the world:If I can live one more life after I die,please forgive me, I will still chooseto be a courageous and free Nuosu man!