山思 (After Li Bai)

The stream runs quietly through the valley, my face red

From the wine hides behind the shadow of a mulberry tree.

The afternoon sun is gentle, unlike a child's laughter,

Always mocking, always cruel, and the wind softly blows.

Calm, calmer still, the rustling of the leaves anoint me.

In this strange land I have found at last a home. Do the

Birds here speak the same language as the ones I have known

When a child; or, transported, would they have been as lost

Here as I once was? The heat carries the scent of mud. There

Is the littlest bead of sweat on my chest and brow. A single

Sparrow cackles: overhead in a branch it spasms. Would it

Dare violate the sanctity of this hour?