Wang Qian (1989.1.6 / Xi'an)

I hear your crisp tears
Clambering up the throat cliff
While you are eating.
Why you are so queer,
Why you like to disappear,
Why you always fling yourself to
Be gone with the warm empty air?

I think you could pick up
All your dewy eyes
Then tell me some words,
Really who you are
It fairly puzzles.

A throbbing weeping night,
An umbrella you hold in hand tight,
Where you want to flee?
Or where you hunt to hide?

Catching the swimming tangle of steps,
I find you quivering abstract
In a mossy dripping corner.
Worried stuffs me with a numb anger.
'Could you let me know
If next time you want to wander? '
I utter.

Forcefully
Your face turns pale
Rains glue the eyes
Hands sweaty fingers unquiet
Blue lips blankly rhyme.

Maybe you are a little deer
That not very polite,
Maybe heavy cheers hang rarely
On your creamy cheeks.
You throw your secret high
Where no one can spy,
But show me a photo
Under the sleepy stony night.

The crawling colour on it is your mother,
White grace wrapped her
Breeze embraced a mild laughter.
Ebony hairs flying with the fragrant Spring,
Ivory hands freely combing the pregnant Green.

Tears
Ears
Clouds
Walls
Leaves
Petals
Caves
Shadows
W-A-T-C- H-I-N-G
Hand in hand.

It's a wordless night,
I meet many wordless eyes.
However at last I know,
Why you run so fast
As an arrow
Into the knitting broken rain,
Why your suspension points of wheaty smile
Were heaped up
On the firmly biting keen.

A murderer of the motherless nightmare
A prisoner of the nevermore lilac smell.

Silence is a big brassy chain
Banging the pebbles under foot
Again and again.