The Wax Apple Tree in the Theological College
Its leaves are like jade
And flowers falling like rain.
The old wax apple tree
Which rough bark covers the old wounds,
Has been cut deeply
And full with memory of injuries.
Yet when in summer the sun shines,
Wax apples hang again like little bells
Brightly shining pink and white and green
Smells lightly bitter, smells so clean.
Before the destiny knocked him again,
My father had once passed the old tree,
With grateful heart and joyful spirit
He had heard the stories collected by the tree
During the long, long time, the half century.