Chapter 4 Home

I long to return to my home in the forest. A path in the grass. A hut on the headland. Are the fruit trees there still picking big apples? crops blown by the wind Is it still booing and shaking? where i pitched my tent is there still a bell Rhythmically ringing in the night? Where does my memory live? Where will my death live? I spend my long years miserly, Were those the years when my fate dangled on the gray line? I live like a shadow, My memory is also alive in the shadows. The tree and the hut are not near, The door was still firmly locked. stacked on the steps are blown together by the wind

Carpet of dead leaves. Let others laugh wildly, let new tide In the too wide valley under the bridge to turbulent flow, I don't want to hear, I don't want to say, I sit in my house, By the window, meditating alone. There is my kingdom. When they sit with their eyes closed, Never think they are old. those we left, those we abandoned, soon loses its scent and color, like flowers and grass, we tear from the heart A name, like from your window frame Wipe off traces of dust. They stand so tall, Like tall ghosts. They give the earth. and all your thoughts cast a shadow,

What will be the fate of come home every night Like a swallow returning to its nest. a home!This is a safe and secure place, We build walls to make it safe — our own world — the only The home we make in the world. From "Poems" (1895) Translated by Shi Qin'e and Lei Shuyan