On My Seventieth Birthday
Yu Kwang-chung

Even the longest river shall meet the sea.
How much waterway is still left ahead
Before the exit delta greets me?
Surely the gorges have long been passed
And range after range has failed
To stop or stem the torrential flow.
Unhurried now are the lower reaches,
Joined by tributaries from afar.
Settled are the sands of the years.
Deep in tranquil night, listen
To the tidal signs faint from the sea,
And melting snow back at the source
Starting in a trickle is expedition.
Even the longest river is bound for sea:
The water hurries on, the river stays.