As I was writing in my classroom,
A vision appeared in my mind:
At the age of sixty, I am driving a car
With my grandchildren.
I am in my classroom, writing.
Suddenly, my vision blurs.
I am sixty, in my car,
Thinking of my present, at twenty-one—
My college days.
How ironic it is, the feeling is ecstasy.
Wonderful—that’s all I can describe.
I am writing in my classroom at twenty-one,
Meanwhile, driving a car with my grandchildren.
From the present, I think of the future;
From the future, I think of the present.
Both satisfy my heart.
Life is very short;
Nostalgia is all we’ve got.
The past is so beautiful, full of memories—
For it moves the present.