Life was harsh for Wen in the country. Various circumstances, including marriage, keep her in
.... Her hair streamed
into the dark eye of the sun.
A leap, her skirt
like a blossom, and the heart
jumped out of her hand, fluttering
like a flushed pheasant. A slip -
I rushed to its rescue, when she
caught it - a finishing touch
to her performance. The people
roared. I froze. She took my hand,
waving, our fingers branching
into each other, as if my blunder
were a much rehearsed act, as if
the curtain fell on the world
in a peice of white paper
to set off the red heart, in which
I was the boy, she, the girl.
Life is like the footprint left by a solitary crane in the snow,
visible only for one moment, and then gone.