Reed Field - Yang Mu
1.
It’s a chilly morning
In the reed field not too far from
the city, I stand in the wind
imagining you going through crowds-
I’m surprised to find myself enjoying
the wait, but I say to myself
this waiting in the wind will be
my last
I count the potted plants on the balcony
trying to decide the age of the banyan tree
I see the morning light strike
a winter chrysanthemum at an angle
As you are walking through the crowds
the air congests with
glittering anxiety
I want to stop you or
hurry you, but I cannot see you
I sit down and run my hand over a teapot
feeling the delicate lacquered phoenix wings
and the warmth behind the allegory
contented with the peace of my age
I discover that the doorbell image
appears in the Romantic period, printed in a chapter
of a book already covered on the exam
I turn to the last few pages
on structuralism and doubt
if my inductive method suits
you. I only know I cannot
force you to accept my subjective conclusion
and so decide to let you express yourself
2.
I decide to let you express yourself
and make your own judgments. I will not
question your choices anymore. Time
is a river, now dark, now bright
those on the bank cannot question
the surge and fall of the light
I sould even
learn knitting from you
how you knit while carrying on a conversation
looking sweet and relaxed
Only your smeil reveals
a touch of uneasiness- sometimes
the needle pricks your index finger
wound with thread. Yes, like me you
try to act calm but cannot help
being distracted
It’s a chilly morning
We pretend to be happy as we pass
the lukewarm teacups. I pretend
not to know that when the tea cools
the phoenix also turn cool
I pretend sadness belongs to the future
not to the present, to this moment, though
the sun rises higher and higher. In the reed field
not too far from the city
we promise each other
unrealistic dreams
of a bigger, happier
world, in a distant
future world
until I hear you crying
the way you express yourself
I know this is not the last time
I’ll wait because I love you
.
1.
It’s a chilly morning
In the reed field not too far from
the city, I stand in the wind
imagining you going through crowds-
I’m surprised to find myself enjoying
the wait, but I say to myself
this waiting in the wind will be
my last
I count the potted plants on the balcony
trying to decide the age of the banyan tree
I see the morning light strike
a winter chrysanthemum at an angle
As you are walking through the crowds
the air congests with
glittering anxiety
I want to stop you or
hurry you, but I cannot see you
I sit down and run my hand over a teapot
feeling the delicate lacquered phoenix wings
and the warmth behind the allegory
contented with the peace of my age
I discover that the doorbell image
appears in the Romantic period, printed in a chapter
of a book already covered on the exam
I turn to the last few pages
on structuralism and doubt
if my inductive method suits
you. I only know I cannot
force you to accept my subjective conclusion
and so decide to let you express yourself
2.
I decide to let you express yourself
and make your own judgments. I will not
question your choices anymore. Time
is a river, now dark, now bright
those on the bank cannot question
the surge and fall of the light
I sould even
learn knitting from you
how you knit while carrying on a conversation
looking sweet and relaxed
Only your smeil reveals
a touch of uneasiness- sometimes
the needle pricks your index finger
wound with thread. Yes, like me you
try to act calm but cannot help
being distracted
It’s a chilly morning
We pretend to be happy as we pass
the lukewarm teacups. I pretend
not to know that when the tea cools
the phoenix also turn cool
I pretend sadness belongs to the future
not to the present, to this moment, though
the sun rises higher and higher. In the reed field
not too far from the city
we promise each other
unrealistic dreams
of a bigger, happier
world, in a distant
future world
until I hear you crying
the way you express yourself
I know this is not the last time
I’ll wait because I love you
.
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