February Hut

Wen Yiduo

Facing a screen of faint mountains and clear waters,

Perched on the edge of chessboard rice paddies,

A tile-roofed hut that watches the movements on the chessboard

Is clutched in the fist of little knolls.

A square pond asleep under the willows;

Clever swallows—singing,

They found this spot, of all places, to listen to the echo

From the water's face to correct their own tunes.

Swallows! Did you hear that spell of cold rain last night?

A message from the west wind urges you to go home.

After this year, will it still be you

Who make annual return next year and the year after?

Ah, your little explosive sounds

Burst with what irrepressible ancient sorrows!

Pitiful birds, whom are you trying to tell?

Don't you know that this heart is also broken?