Chapter 14 dawn

new york dawn It's four mud pillars It was soaked in sewage for a while The storm of the black dove. new york dawn sigh for the endless staircase To be among the hosta bushes Look for the anguish of painting. The dawn comes, no one greets it in his mouth, Because there is no tomorrow here, and there can be no hope. Sometimes money makes a wicked bond, Stabbed and devoured the deranged child. Those who came out first knew in their bones There will be no heaven, nor unarmed love; They know they're going into the sludge of protocol and numbers Do tricks without art, sweat without results.

The light is buried in chains and tumult, In the brazen challenge of a rootless science. The streets are full of staggering and sleepless people As if freshly disembarked from a wrecked ship caught in a bloody catastrophe. Translated by Shi Zhecun