If you are a traditional girl, look up at the
Stars,
And the dragons making nests,
Bending down to sniff the sappy bouquets of
The tangled cypress:
Get nose bleeds on your knees, praying to airplanes,
If you can—
Or stand up slowly, while slowly raising both of
Your hands:
And look across the land I cannot show you:
It is there with all of your people seeming to
Move torpidly on the back of a tortoise;
But it is a frenetic merry-go-round:
Now it is here—too soon it will leave this lazy old town.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem