The White Cloud

There are many clouds
But not like the one I see,
For mine floats like a swan in featheriness
Over the River of the Broken Pine.

There are many clouds
But not like the one that goes sailing
Like a ship full of gold that shines,
Like a ship leaning above blue water.

There are many clouds
But not like the one I wait for,
For mine will have a strangeness
Whiter than anything your eyes remember