She who stands over there Poem by Inger Elisabeth Hansen

She who stands over there has big round eyes. No one could ever have alleged that
she should be Chinese. She would be far from a little Chinese girl. True, the cheekbones are slanted
but without this reflection of the moon's cool curve, without the half upturned or half arched
ink stroke of moon behind a shiny haze of skin, without this touch of the calligrapher's precise stroke,
of the calligrapher's brush, the big brush gripped by hand after hand as it follows the room's
curvature over China one night with the moon half upturned, no, half arched in a face over a river,
a face that sinks its mirror image in a river as the moon goes down, the shiny haze settles
over the cliffs like skin, jutting cliffs or sheer cliffs, that is how her cheekbones are:

Cyrillic like the cliffs by a Chinese river