Sitting Still
Lin Huiyin

The winter has its own intention,
Chilly like a flower—
A flower has its own perfume, the winter its own memory.
A shade of dead branch, as slender as a blue smoke,
Pulls a stroke of painting at window in the afternoon;
The sunlight weakens in the cold winter, ever slanting…
Thus in the same way
As talking to visitors,
I am sipping tea silently, in stillness.