On the way to work each morning you walk by her:
in green grass, face upward, horseless and bronze-armored.
Not once has she glimpsed at your office building
Riding boots on
You came forward in the manner of sorrow
At my window
After my guide said chao,
I waited to see you again.
Beyond the Atlantic's pale blue,
On silver wing, a rainbow word
Soars above one dream of yours
This word of bent light is made
Here, look at this moon:
See it walk through Beijing, pass a blood red palace,
Dip into white jade petals.
Together I bring you two