Gulp down a bowl of white wine,
adorns a blue khata, out in sunshine,
rough donkey-ride to cultural places,
no galloping warriors, only smiling faces,
Across the vast green steppe, idle harmony,
clear blue sky, sonorous voices, free and easy.
White wooly clouds, with messages, reveal,
shamans and lamas, interpret, heal and seal.
Faith and destiny written in the nine heavens,
Only blessed greats have choices, not humans.
A can of beer to sit and stare at the horizon,
the vision of life is to indulge in non-action.