Something in a locomotive, that black-clad traffic’s rush, something in the silver-tinted background: always that tally of progress & catastrophe, engines wrecked
After his friends rigged a pulley and lowered the pack
With nothing but time and the light of the Singer, and no one to come now forever
Tailing Dam stands tall, Mine Lake hangs high. At dike’s end stand a few grasses, snake-like.
It’s not new, this condition, just for awhile kept deep in the cortex of things imagined
Long I had heard of Lake Tung-t’ing And now at last I have climbed the tower.Wu is to the east, and Chu to the south,
Cuando todos los siglos vuelven, anocheciendo, a su belleza, sube al ambito universal la unidad honda de la tierra.
