Pastoral Poem by Bei Dao
Pastoral
wolves of music weave their way at a run
hawthorns wheeze with clandestine laughter
turning a new leaf, tide's out
young ship-captains high up on balconies
look far away through telescopes
east and west
a single fruit cut into halves
beneath a tree grown from the pit I once spit out
I've hung nets to
trap birds, and waited how many years
TRANSLATED BY DAVID HINTON
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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7/31/2026 5:01:24 AM # rel_20260727T173023Z_37e450e
