Grafton Bridge Poem by Yang Lian

As you cross the bridge the graveyard below draws close Pine trees raise their suspicious faces A sea of the dead with the stench of iron sheeting Rust coloured sunlight circles about Like an old dog sniffing at you A dog's eye staring scenery on the bridge is unusually clear Sky a withered dead volcano a crimson fist On a cheap headstone a drop of stale blood Clouds bring together all of yesterday's storms But are sullied by bird claws The handrail brings you home transparent windows are open You are crossing the bridge at home A whole city is located in a sickroom Green weeds link so many footsteps Rock owners under rock roofs close in Iron owners in iron corridors close in Hallucinations are seen death has no need for speed Where you are headed is still the point at which you turn old The dead on the grass look down to you it is the same distance But as if manacled with glass handcuffs you must return To inspect and repair each bridge pylon of today's crimes A child running wildly amongst a flock of snow-white seagulls Suddenly stands still to shout out because of the stars To weep loudly because of the sharp lingering pain of black night