In bad weather, certain words
touch my heart, acquaint me with those people
in a faraway place. Burning in the fireplace
is wood more ready to give itself to flames
than wrought iron. A heavier rain is
coming. One solitary bird soaring slowly
forces the sky lower and lower. That letter
is still in my hand. Fog
rises through the narrowest canyon
Now I climb down the landscape
believing that in another direction
the central gate remains open
There birds flock together, betrothed deer
follow the single man returning homeward
At sunset, woods at the sharp bend
stand staunchly erect, behind them
brilliant mountain peaks. Atop
Mount Santa Cruz rises a Korean pine, its
tip glittering with light, but the entire
trunk caught in that deep and
vast darkness up there
Xue Di was born in Beijing. His published works in English translation include Another Kind of Tenderness, Forgive, An Ordinary Day, Circumstances, Heart into Soil, and Flames, and in Chinese, Trembling and Dream Talk. His work has appeared in numerous American journals and anthologies and has been translated into many languages. Xue Di is a two-time recipient of the Hellman/Hammett Award. (updated 4/2005)