The last ray of dusk stabs me.
I lie on the naked land, to prove
that my blood is mixed with a river
and I’ll never feel sad. Under me,
the sunset tans the white scattered rocks.
When I cross my hands, dark falls
and dreams ruin me immediately.
I am at a loss, trapped
by the drunken glare of twilight.
Water changes me; it describes
a lonely color. I can’t settle down.
I’m a boundless woman.
The look in my eye turns to amber
to penetrate the mind and make it less accessible.
The heart’s shadow
displays itself all night long on the rock, to prove
that the silence in the sky is beyond human power.
When I rise and turn into blue morning flames
autumn becomes colder--
Women, your sweetness
is last month’s disaster
but today you’re at peace, rising out of darkness
to give comfort.
From “New Generation: Poems from China Today,” edited by Wang Ping (Hanging Loose Press: 236 pp., $16)