Translated by Rey Chow
In the past we always praised stable things.
Yet you appear in the pond, and keep making ripples, which
together with the lights of dawn and shades of dusk
transform into new image after new image
A series of crystalline lights appear at the margins, changing
the glittering organization in the pond, breaking it up, then making
a new kind of order. My roots and leaves feel being circled around -
I seem to feel fishes kissing all over my body
then flowing away, in small detailed patterns
Amid these movements I want to hold on - yet cannot
grab any stable center I can use for a pause.
I cannot but let go of the safety of the soil,
turn over the silt sediments inside me, and feel the waves
brought by the light breeze
making a splash beyond the circumference of the pond? No, not always like this.
As day becomes night and night becomes day I can gradually sense
you, too, have tangible fears - all that darkness inside
the pond. You keep corning toward me, then moving away, teasing me about my stubbornness
But as I lift my face toward the wind, you become anxious that the veins on my leaves
might form new patterns unknown to you; you murmur
that these wavy reflections hold nothing eternal perhaps
I bend forward so as to cover you, my craggy shadow
dissolving in your ripples. In the ever-changeful morning and evening
in the mild coolness, we shiver together thus - and keep each other warm.
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