English Rendering
Imagine a small poem
chanted a hundred times
each word bringing new feelings
sounding golden
my thoughts have climbed the wall
between our houses
I gaze into the distance—
my heart's not made of stone
the Milky Way looks expectant
out there in the vastness
Hunan's rivers are waking up
the zither is fully tuned
every April the Cold Food Festival
leaves me a little homesick
silent night, mellow wine—
don't make me pour it alone.
