At the door of yesterday's palm, she
strolled through plum blossoms.
The collars wrapped in her own; the
button's nail to the nail's marble.
And the name stood the rigours of time
between the narrow strings of wood.
Mere mere, a canvas space-filled
chun ju with thoughts and truths
and threads tapering down to the
hidden ankle with singing feathers
spread along long-standing figures
thick as patterns in vernacular trois;
首先:
Going back into history.
第二:
Coming into the present.
The rest of all:
Woven into the future's 魔法 dust.