Information.

Di, Xue

In an emblematic downpour
I shift my body, look towards ocean

watch fish slow down gasping for air
Eyes of my homeland. I am

one lost in a crowd. Thirty-eight years of
struggle, I join the wheat harvest crew

In the dark and alone, carrying water, in
free moments scrutinizing the growing crops

Effort through bad seasons
imagining

I'm a happy harvester
not going with the crowd

I know well the pain of purposeful neglect
use my heart more, not my mind

Living in imagination
a phantom joy

From tranquility
cleaner and cleaner

far from the clever crowd
closer to my own delirium

With a precise cold eye I see
the one who lives alone walk in the rain

Discomfort is a ray of light
in harder and harder rain

Crossing the intersection, in my
heart, eyes of a spawning fish

slowly going shut. Homeland
with the sound of ocean

in the ear of someone sick
resonant and more resonant