Ascending, I left noisy earth behind,
Ascending, I passed through sea clouds and mountains clouds.
Ascending, I met the tranquil blue sky,
Ascending, I entered the freedom of high altitude.
But altitude is merely empty space.
My heart falls back to the busy, disordered human world.
The upper air is clear, uncontaminated,
Yet indifferent as ice, without human warmth.
There is endless isolation and quiet,
Yet no irksome jealousy or deception.
Although thinking isn’t prohibited,
There is no heart-to-heart talk with friends,
No path strewn with flowers for me to walk,
No fertile fields to work with plow or sickle.
A seat belt shackles me into my armchair,
This cagelike freedom is stifling my feelings.
Let me go back to earth,
Where grief–such as it is–claims half of life;
The other half is cheerful laughter, fiery hope
Surpassing what’s in the sky, more beautiful than dreams.

translated by Fang Dai, Dennis Ding, & Edward Morin