Cutting Jade.
Silent William placed the cold chisel
in the designated spot. His fingers made
tiny adjustments to the squared-off blade.
He settled it into the crevice he had chosen
so carefully. Gripped the chilled steel handle
in his big fist and fixed his sharp blue eyes upon
the top that had spread like a split mushroom
from previous beatings. He raised the lump hammer.
He did not need to look at his right hand as it swung
the heavy tool in a perfect arc, up, to where the
weight balanced perfectly for a split second upon the
pillar of his arm. The descent was swift. The impact
like that of Thors’ own hammer. With a might crack
the boulder split. The two halves fell away like walnut
shells and the seams of milky jade shone dully in the
first light to ever have touched them. The new born sheen
threw the softest green glow, back into the weathered
face of Silent William.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem