The deeply-split body of the land
Looks up at the sky of rivers

The rivers of the sky
Are unable to wash off their sorrows


The coagulated blood of the land
Has been sleeping for one hundred years

The soul divorced from body
Is like a illusion


Returning to the grassland of stars in my fancy
The Milky Way looks like my mother’s milk

Riding on my father’s galloping horse
I am marching forward along the river of the sun


My hands waking up with a start
From a dying dream

To look for the horsewhip my grandfather had lost
I am digging in the black forest