I pass through the point that shocks imagination,

the setting sun, lingering on elevated buildings,

polishes again the bronzed arm of dusk, and overlook

the lanterns jostling in the human festival

glinting off red tiles

making memory’s trumpet dazed and faint,

ten thousand years are just squatting there:

I walk through the glaring red ocean storm

to reach the track’s end, the summit

where a dazzling brilliance is moving its labour,

under the heavy pressure of limitless riches

the giant lantern catches fire, is destroyed in a huge furnace

the tiredness at the end of the day

sound after sound,stroke after stroke

the bell spreads its long hair over the silent fields…

Translated from the Chinese by Tang Chao with Lee Robinson