On K343 train
By Ruins, Rich flowers Translated by Tulip
The long curved gourd-line arduously crawls through compartments
As if it wanted to press down the great noise here
Local accents are always with you on the way
Interwoven, overlapping, crowded
And stuff in the pockets of the shabby iron cattle
It’s only her that keeps quite without any words
The girl, in her eyes tears rinsing the past
Looks dull, gazing out through the window
The woods sound in the autumn certainly
Makes her shiver unconsciously
While for me, I am as silent as her
Absorbed in short lines of poems outside
Lying on the barren farmlands and crops
Silently I read their sigh
And read up-down -breath of the land
