I encountered that gray horse
and his gray mane ---
there’s no sunlight that day
only silence, stretched behind the horse
and his waving mane
No one told me the color of grass
but my impulse produced deep green
Rainy season had just gone
the horse trotted over wet grass with forlorn song
But the grass didn’t weep
trees leaned on the pale sky
creeks stopped running, began to ponder
the sternness of the wild
There I saw the gray horse
in the windless air waved was his gray mane
then I heard silence
disbelieved
that was the sound of rain
(translated, partially re-wrote from my early Chinese poem, original title: Beyond Still Image)
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