The ship Hsu ChiCheng
The ship is navigating on the sea.
It must navigate on the sea if it’s a ship.
It navigates from this shore to another shore, from this harbour to another harbour, from this sea to another sea.
It must to taste, whether it’s stable or bump.
When it’s calm or just a little ripple, the surface of the sea is a large blue skating rink, a ship after a ship navigates on it, is a master athlete of skating skates on it; and once more is a blue sky of boundless, a ship after a ship navigates on it, is a butterfly after a butterfly of slim and graceful colourful flippers and dances on it; and more over a attractive tale, a ship after a ship navigate on it, is a swing after a swing which hangs and sways lightly to and fro.
When it’s storm, the sea is tempestuous waves, roars unceasingly, as if a fierce bird and beast, running amuck, fleeing, bursting into, sweeping.
When the thick fog permeates the sky, confuses all around, dim in sight, navigate on the sea, it’s dim in the prospect, no knowing where to go, as if a person strolls on the desert of the night no star and moon, can’t distinguish where is the bank; as if lost road in the deep mountain and dense tree, find no road to exit; as sink into the abyss bottomless, can’t relieve himself; and more over as if is bogged down in the dark ghost town, there is no echo to call heaven or earth, no helping in lonely, disappointed extremely, no knowing how to do.
A storm may arise from a clear sky, even the moon is sometimes full and sometimes partial; nothing can be perfect all the time, it must be with and against the wind.
In spite of it’s calm or just a little ripple, it’s storm, tempestuous waves, or the thick fog permeates the sky, dim in sight, it must navigate on the sea if it’s a ship.
Oh, the ship is navigating on the sea! @