One solitary boat in the middle of the lake
after sunset, like yesterday, two men aboard.
They are not fishing, not rowing
from one shore to another,
they are talking,
all fourty minutes I'm on the beach or swim
they talk, their words carried across the waters
to me except when I dive underwater,
and when I surface, their words
across the waters again, so mundane,
like Chehkov's characters talking past each other,
and I wonder if Wang Wei
could have deciphered those distant
human voices of his, would their words
have been this ordinary,
unravelling the mystery.
10.08.2025
#Verse #Poem #Poems #Poetry
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