Wish, thread of cicada’s cry,
stands in for a steam whistle, splits heart and mind.
wish for every fallen leaf
to bury each trail of memory,
wish for Chinese white poplars, one by one,
inscribed like stone markers
that are also signs of what is to come,
if I come straight to your heart.
Burgundy fruit wakes under the bush,
clouds of mist gather in the valley.
In the air incessant chatter of ten thousand things overflows.
Every one a layer of green,
must have joyful life to sway and sing.
Early morning wind gently bends the grass.
Tide on the hill retreats.
Forest covers the day, gathers ten thousand
shards of sunlight,
rushes to me,
skims a double handful of gurgling spring water
flowing with my whole heart of love.
Oh, August wilderness,
you plunder my all,
leave behind gratitude that forgets sadness,
cover me gently as water……
you will fill me, too, with gratitude for life,
make my heart forever lively, lively……
(translation by Huichun Liang and Steven Schroeder)