A Note on Beijing

Not our birthplace.
A layover.
A terminal.
A long, long road to walk. To live.
We have come -
and yes, the truth is simple and cryptic.
The beads of dew have fled the grass.
The lightning has left its ancient sanctuary.
The thrumming insect
has overflown its home.
Dust envelops the body.
It came across the plains, the houses, and the faltering trees.
Tomorrow, the next day, or even tonight,
we will leave this place.
The cars abandon the bag of trash by the road,
but not us.
A scar is received,
but not us.
Tonight
is the body outside of warmth.
The moon rises, and we go.
Moonlight. Oh, moonlight.
One could make a fine shirt from it.

- Lan Ye


北京短章

还不是我们的出生地
一座驿站
一个码头
一条长长的生活之路
我们来了
理由是那么明亮也是那么稳秘
是露珠逃脱了草叶
是闪电离开了他躲藏多年的暗处
是低鸣的虫子
飞越了他自己的土地
是裹紧了身子的尘土
飘过了草原，房舍，和摇晃的树木
明天，后天，也许就在今晚
我们会离开这里
不是汽车轰鸣中被抛下的那袋子垃圾
不是一块疤痕，被接下来
离开温暖的肉体
就在今晚
月亮升起，我们远去
月光啊月光
是做件上衣的好料子

- 蓝野