The Village On the Water

Heavily laden boats, rectangular sails billowing Under seas of low cloud, braving the fierce Yangtze; Held between snowcapped mountains, earth and sky Indistinguishable from steaming mist and rolling fog; A long drawn straggle of Grey Geese plummeting down From breathless, rarefied air to stumble awkwardly onto Plum coloured mudbanks; an unrestrained, excitable Cacophony of frenzied honking! Then wild monkeys Provoked into howling each side of the river. There, at the juncture with Longjin Brook, stilted homes, Half-hidden by bamboo groves, crouch at the waters Edge; maidens will come to wash clothes Whirling wooden batons, twittering like golden swallows; Fragrant wildflowers enhance their sweetness. At drab, pale, first-morning light, fishermen cast Nets over the cooling, placid blue waters; The fish that swim here are said to be the finest In the province. We will exchange Black Carp and Blunt-Snout Bream, Wrapped in moist bamboo leaf, for glutinous rice With the clans that tend the terraces inside the fertile River valley... Does not the Emperor insist upon good commerce? If you are dissatisfied as a peasant You can take the ancient "old tea horse road" And burden your back with heavy bales stacked high On a rail; The road will take you all the way from Zigui To Tibet...or even further perhaps, And sombre ravens will soar overhead and taunt your Every footstep. But I will remain where I am, in the Village On The Water Nestled deep within the Three Gorges; My life, the endless horizon stretched beyond, Held in balance as if it were Shaseng The Shadow Play Stone; And each new morning awakening to slow, Chiming bells.