Native of Jiangsu, PRC, upon graduation from Beijing Normal University in 1987, taught in Southeast University Nanjing for a dozen of years. He writes, translates and currently is studying poetry in National University of Singapore.
Nothing out of the earth is a by-product.
It is erupted from the depth, for the purpose to be defined.
It is not rock, but glass, when its inner heat and red
Not so quickly yielding to cooling, something at the core remains
Unchanged, revealing to the human senses and vanities
How snowflakes can grow and bring a little gray into the black hardness.
Neighboring boiling lava, without a name, how can it claim
Loneliness? Yes, it is only inhibited from being viscous
That it does not crystallize. Water may stop it
From cutting the molecules, like the tears of Apache women
Shed, sowed and shot out, changing their colors in the night wind,
The air-borne cries heard only by wolves.
Now that it is on earth, it is in love with wind
And the touch of lizards, the moon and stars.