I Came across a Small Rice Field in Dongguan

Between the toes of factories

short-stemmed rice plants

clutch at the last bit of dirt

Their root-anchors

uncurl tiredly

Outraged hands     wanting to scratch

birdsong and cricket call from the mud

In a patch of gleaming sunlight

I saw rice-plant leaves

shrug like shrugged shoulders

The spikes of rice grew quickly

The grains were in milk     They smiled faintly in the summer breeze

talking to me

All of a sudden, emerging from the deafening, impulsive ocean/oceanic din of notions

I wrung myself dry

like a white shirt

Yesterday, I would never have guessed

that in Dongguan

I could have come across a small field of rice

The yellow-green spikes

continued to sway

through moments both happy and sad

Written in May, 2001

Translated by Simon Patten