Fiest Day of Autumn - Yang Xiuli / 杨绣丽
Autumn sits in the cup of the early chrysanthemum, / Prayers brim over the riverbanks. / Your kisses spill your like lucid flames, / Wrapping themselves around your glistening skin. /
Número #3
Hometown - Liu Xiangdong / 刘向东
They say I'm already a poet— / a poet of the native soil, / earthy to the bone. Yet here I am, / spending the night in a VIP hotel close to home, / and still my hometown visits me in dreams. /
Remembering the Noble Spirit - Che Yangao / 车延高
The moon is always calm—whether or not it powders its face, / it still bears the freckles left by the Tang dynasty. // Newly composed folk songs do not sob, / yet the night-long sound of beating clothes for the long quest / still wrings the heart of one far from home. /
Who - He Xiangyang / 何向阳
Who comes down / from the temple / and gives me breath? / Who gives me breath / and quietly / watches me? / Who watches me / and silently places / a hand in mine? /
Glass - Li Yun / 李 云
Go further inward, and you reach a frozen world, / so transparent it lets you grasp the crystalline core or the past life of amber. // Remember, never ignore the undercurrent beneath its calm ripples— / winter is its zodiac sign and its home. /
Dreaming - Rong Rong / 荣 荣
The woman I dream of is anxious— / she is desperate to meet someone, but has lost the address. // “Are you sure he wants to see you too? / Are you sure you are ready?” /
Wuhan, Wuhan - Liang Ping / 梁 平
The calendar on the wall is inflamed, / Page by page, it falls away, / Everyone in commute, in neighborhood and public places / is armed with masks cut out from white clouds. /