ZHENG, MIN

Golden Rice sheaves

Golden rice stands in sheaves

in the newly cut autumn field.

I think of many exhausted mothers,

I see rugged faces along the road at dusk.

On the day of harvest, a full moon hangs

atop the towering trees,

and in the twilight, distant mountains

approach my heart.

nothing is more quiet than this, a statue,

shouldering so much weariness –

you lower your head in thought

in the autumn field that stretches afar.

Silence. Silence. History is nothing

but a small stream flowing under your feet.

And you stand over there,

becoming a thought of humanity.

A Glance

after Rembrandt’s Young Woman at an Open Half-Door (1645)

Beautiful are the shoulders sinking into the shadows

locking her chest, rich as an orchard. Only her radiant

face, a dream, suddenly appearing, corresponds

to the slim fingers that rest on the low threshold door.

In the trees of hours, river clock carries away another leaf.

From her eyes, half-lowered, mysterious, flows out

a tranquility that blinds. Her eternal calm faces a hurried

but limited life when in an evening, by chance, she casts a glance

that lasts at this ever-changing world.