Later Face Poem by Jiang Haizhou

The painted building was an extreamly tiny one.
It had just finished an unknown touching action,
of which no one heard the boiling ketle in it, and
getting louder and louder under thinner air.

Night was unwillingly getting darker alone
in the nightmare restarunt with a large empty bowl.
A hanging pot and two smallest face-shaped lights
were huanting aroung—

The riversides to home are straight like death.
This is one of the exclusions.

—A little liqueur of which two men had sipped
was no longer to hearten any of them,
so that nothing of the lips opens.

This (with a flower on its left conner
like a cloud over the flesh, the right like moon
over a silk) was the self- farming and kneeling down
for the ghost for long there.

This soundless talking was from transparent vapour;
a sudden uttered bother.

—all the fake sceneries were in chilly wells
of the diamond which cut the hair from a child.
As for the old, cut a memery from oneself.

Huzhou, March 21,2015