Every day people pass away
leaving behind on gates
red paper.
Yet leaves fallen in the courtyard
are no more than the year before.
The moon goes through clouds.
Standing on the mercury column are the children
frightened.
Oh, now we are the same,
cold and lonely.
Daring,
I finally made you!
This vast and empty empire.
This incomparable mottled sea before sunset.
About the author:
He Bingling is the deputy chairman of the Essay Society and a member of Poetry Writing Committee of Writers Association of Anhui Province. She has published Hour Glass and other three collections of literary criticism and essays.