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Anchoring under the eaves bold steps to be withdrawn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