|The Chinese Travelogue|
If you could dull its perspicuity, free it from chaos, limit its gleam,
liken it to a grain of dust, then it would seem to exist clearly.
The roofs are raised at the edges
like eyebrows in surprise.
What do you mean? Really? I’m happy to the
bottom of my heart!
From these terraces everything
dear to man can be seen eternally:
the dry banks, the silver-yellow rivers,
the scrawled letter of the bushes –
a love note.
Two passers-by bow
low to each other on the pontoon bridge
and a swallow brings the height
in on a teaspoon.
Heart drops, healing potion.
However, no one is sick in China,
for the sky itself is an expert
Roofs raised at the edges
like amazed eyebrows:
Really? you don’t say? I’m so glad.
Terraces, from which you can always see
everything a person loves to see:
dry banks, silvery-yellow rivers,
a broken line of bushes–like a love letter.
Two passersby bow low to one another on a pontoon bridge
and a swallow brings you
a teaspoon of height:
heart medicine, a healing potion.
By the way, in China no one gets sick:
the heavens know how to strike at the right time with a long needle.
| ||8. The roofs are raised at the edges...|