Shu Ting

When you pass by my window, Bless me, please, For the light is still on.

The light is on— In the gloomy night, Like a floating fisherman's lamp. You can imagine my little cabin, Like a little boat tossing in a windstorm But I did not sink, For the light is still on.

The light is on— My shadow on the curtain Is that of a stooped old man, No vigorous gestures, My back bent even more than before. But my heart has not grown old, For the light is still on.

The light is on— With a burning love, It acknowledges greetings from all sides. The light is on— With dignity and pride, It looks down at oppressions of all kinds. Ah, when did it take on a distinct character? Since you began to understand me.

For the light is still on— Bless me, please, When you pass by my window.