THOUGHTS ON THE DRYING–UP RIVER

Each river ends at the river’s mouth

When the first raindrop of a storm fell on the summit of Mt. Jing

it already knew its final place years later

Years later I stand on a dried-up riverbed

Up in the starry sky, I see light

weak yet willful, just like me

humble and headstrong walking on this dried-up river

Before and behind me there were torrential waves

Before and after my life, waves of people