The Crystal Prison
—On a Watch
Yu Guangzhong

Uncountable unless under a magnifying glass,
Handled with care by tweezers only,
Such dutiful and skillful little slaves:
By what mischievous sprites, from where,
And with what tricks, were you kidnapped
To this curious device of a crystal prison?
Shut behind the round steel gate, waterproof,
Day and night, to a pressing beat, push
Around the center of quietude,
Push all the golden wheels of a mill
That grinds the heartless flow of centuries
Into years and months, days and hours,
And hours into fine flour of minutes,
Of minutes and moments and seconds.
So out it drips stealthily, through the gate
Called “waterproof.” This is the tiniest
Factory, that, tick-tock-tick, knows no rest.
If you doubt it, gently press your ear
Down to your wrist and closely listen
To the slaves' songs in the crystal prison,
Time's ever-chewing, gnawing monotone
When wheels meet wheels, teeth fitting zigzag teeth.
Are the prison songs, you ask, happy or sad?
Happiness or sadness is for you to tell—
A sad, slow tune or a brisk, happy tune.
Listen, the turning wheels are neither sad
Nor happy, even though rivers flow
From your wrist. Gently put your ear down
To the two pulses racing day and night,
Warm blood racing against cold steel,
Blood running faster, seventy-six beats to sixty.
At first the young blood runs at a hundred and forty,
The carefree hare jumping way ahead,
But the steely steps are closing in.
Lay your ear to your wrist and carefully listen.
Which pulse taps the rhythm of your life?