A Lake

If we don’t think it surface stagnation
ripples will form gently on the lake
and also wind will blow through the jungle and set water grasses undulating on the lake bottom.
If we don’t think it a trap
the mountain’s image will rise up from within the lake
and tree leaves in the water will turn greener and greener.

If we don’t presume it cruel
the drowned child will surface.
The spread net will not fail.
If we don’t presume it thick ice
the dream of skating on it will be frustrated, rolling along will be impossible
and the long beaks of the herons will be unable to break up the buildings’ reflections.

If we don’t regard it as a copper mirror
a lot of rubbish on the moon—however much—will be cleaned up
and the sunken ships on the lake bottom will become fishes’ tents.
If we don’t regard it as a blind pupil
it will become a bright eye even on the darkest night
and a face, no matter how ugly, will be clearly reflected.

A lake is but an expanse of water.
Why do we attribute to it
so many “what-ifs”?

A LAKE