...

- I will let you translate...

My eyes're in flow

My eyes're in flow

consciously,

if I can't catch a boat.

A purple bird dives into the water

lurking with a lotus scent,

when I reach the east

bank.

Oh, when I reach the east bank

with a leave-like boat

unconsciously, or

with my foot in mud,

can I tell if it's the fragrance

from the central park of  N'York?

Jog

across a green line of road

leading to

my office with a full-round window,

a tiny sorrow

with a baked breakfast

plus a diet coke;

I was running into

a famous poet's widow,

rememering a love letter

he said he wrote.

...

...

It is not the color or the word,

an American azelea cannot be an image

of a Chinese bird,

until

I'm back to the West Lake

in Hangzhou.

--