50.
O the life which exhibits life
Your benevolent love incomparably huge
But my head is still standing
Makes me think of you in candlelight from time to time
Not for the balefire engulfed in trudge
Of the days when rivers grow
All energy spent the campaign of yesterday is delivered
And such hours for me
In your beautiful days of sunshine a generation of deity live on in degradation
The strong wind along the boundless Gobi
The falling in action of time destroys the homeland of soul
Arouses my moment of reverence
Like a sun towering over the head
But I am only my very self
To smother the evening scene of the world
A pair of jealous faces
And those sweet hearts of the earth
Abandon the mountain range of thought
To put it on the back of the sun from afar
And begin to turn to the surging banks of reality
The red line on the striking
To transform life into wandering ballad
Speculating
O, Qiaojiwa the incarnation of Adam’s sin
For a minute The lengthy historical progress
51.
How to be able to go before me
At the same time I am watching the black cliff of the opposite bank
In no time to agitate or excite you
Only the separated world is my independent starry sky
Owing to reality the ground to the wordless castle beneath the feet
All excessive rain stops all of a sudden
Often beating against the chest with tears and in unison with river water
May I ask who waters its growing order
And all make threatening gestures
Who can pour out to his own sorrowful heart
Drips and drops of candlelight
And my subjects push forward from the chalk coastline
To ascribe those forgotten wreckage to my sovereign
Recalling the glazed-tile-like transparent crystal no more
To submit the standing face of myriads of years to weather exposure
In the chilly wind of the snowy region
52.
Now, my biggest reward is no more than
Perhaps this is a great pioneering work or unfortunate pity
To deliver a hand to confirm wordless tears
Sliding over my head attending to numerous affairs everyday
And I am only one of them
No complaint about the mingling of an excessive rain
Attempting to pave a road or build a bridge for you
To destroy the evil Great Wall before the eyes
With sweat and blood again
Beautiful is the singing yet it often stirs the tightened chord
To build a massive monument
To choose myself
Huge radiography in the sky
To choose the prayer of dark night
Life clean and clear
53.
Oh cheer my subjects
On the top of another flag
It is you who have saved the fairy of another nation
47.
Seeing the reality before the eyes hustling and bustling
Is being transformed into the pretty sun of double day
And the river stops cocking the tremor of python
My heart has enjoyed momentary peace
But why there are so many people
Lead you to take out a whole heart
Who come before me to face the river
Shouting in chorus calling us
Pouring out the ballad passed down from myriads of years ago
And I. Have been put to trial by public opinion
O, Masimu the kindling of Eve’s maternity
And the flame of red lip truth has been lost
Forcing myself to tolerate the concept of a time
Like a broken ship the body breaks out of the shell
To exist for the sake of existence
Here it is a piece of green grass
Perhaps owing to the basic form of the objects which we know
Before reality I often measure myself with existence
Blows to comfort my sorrowful heart
Only when the image of existence exhibits itself before me
Can I detach myself from the rail of time
We again hear the noble commandment of time
Like rivers and ships looking up to the noble head
On our respective ankle beautiful pattern is clearly seen
To sing for the sake of singing
But before the noble head
Or to build a new mansion
We seem to have ever had the riverbed lying like a giant
And the passage of time cannot emulate you
Through the source which is muddy and vast
Leaving behind pallor
The river and ship waiting for our coming
Leaving behind too much confusion
54.
Are like irrational generative force which opens the fair festival blossoms
May I ask where is my beautiful homeland
To strike an echo with human beings
Where is my fertile land
With pangs and the broken dream of rare metals
Is hanging in your upper air
Jumping over the head of the giant
Recalling the golden wheat ears at the end of the century
Anchoring under the eaves bold steps to be withdrawn
Like our fleet singing an ancient song
There it is a piece of yellow soil
Stepping into the pitch-black night
Forever the eve of dawn
49.
Forever the huge cemetery of loessland
Eurasia sees our countless eternal folks
Thus a flying flag is erected
Which makes each reverent heart all of a sudden
Rivers real portrait
Lie prostrate in your beating heart
Attempting to burst open the door of the world
In bitter search
Let the bloody truth flash
No time to notice the swansong of all living creatures
Perhaps time
Is the hotbed hatched by years
Abandon your imagination to the fairy of a nation
Waiting impatiently
For the hour wet with dripping rain
Recalling that day no more
55.
Or a similar shrine
But who can expect such a solemn and stirring scene
Sparkling with splendid source of happiness
The balefire has burned a vast stretch of land
Dissolute at the rising vault-neck of Mother
No alternative but to extend a pair of invisible hands
Is to be hanged for aye on the flagpole without marks
Calling the comers calling all ships of life
A babel of voices when to end
56.
But I can not can not
Rivers zigzag
Only dedicate a lonely wish
48.
The wet eyes have already turned into a garden of obscuration
In expectation and infatuation to return
O my heart, my beautiful little house
To the depth of the remote soul —
Knocking prostrate at Mother’s encampment
Falling into love with each other en route to happiness
Pushing toward the inland in the rising sun
Tightly biting your red lips
Written at the Chinese writers’class
of Northwest University
It calls for great patience and endurance to walk in or walk out
July to November, 1989
