As you walk along the street, slow your steps.
Neither the roads are bound for arrival,
Nor will your strides ever be measured.
Let the seconds of life beat softly.
Let the tiny blossoms,
Pushing their fragile faces through cracks in the pavement,
Be seen.
Listen to the sound of raindrops,
Throwing themselves against the windows with their very essence.
And smile at the dance of the poplars’ tresses,
As they compose melodies to the rhythm of the breeze.
Believe me, there is no regret waiting at the end of this path,
Except for the regret of steps you should have taken slower
And gazes you should have held deeper.
Life is this harmonious slowness,
Weaving poetry into the air
Between the branches of a willow.