Night Story

by Han Qing
     trs. by Wang Ping

The hand, covered with scars, strokes
The keys and the city.  Its skeleton
Feels smooth, wherever the hand touches
The signals in taxi are overwhelming
The night is a screaming tomcat

Everything about the Six Dynasties are here
Mixing things from last year and a thousand years ago
Hard to tell the difference.  Sometimes
It’s better to be cut off from the world

The darkness in the drawer also belongs to us
The celibate boxer howls like a she-beast
What’s the difference between throwing away
A teddy bear and a baby?  Cheap happiness
Like sand, grinds us into tools
The spring hand is tearing me into willow leaves
The phone’s screen becomes my lake

When I was young
I almost drowned in a pond
Unfortunately, my neighbor pulled me out
To some, the most fun thing to do
Is to take down the ladder into the pool

Yet I love the midnight ringing in my ears
It reminds me I’m still alive:
I also love silence
Only in silence can I hear
The tinnitus of spring