COURTYARD IN THE WIND by Yang Yong

COURTYARD IN THE WIND

by Yang Yong

This courtyard cannot take another tree.

New things seem unnecessary.

It's complete.

The wind reaches every corner of the courtyard

with bird songs, dust, fallen leaves,

a house drenched in dew and fragrances.

The fenced-in garden feels like a prison,

days forgotten page after page

— your heart was once an ancient well.

A courtyard littered by fallen flowers,

treetops unreachable, streams distant

——a pond once graced the path.

Now another scene,

Now another crowd.

— grass proliferates, some climbs over the wall.

The moss on the edge calls out for friends, and the ants do, too.

The roaming wind eludes, but it is there.

The courtyard that sways in the wind looks unreal.

The wind blows, the garden is now empty.

Yesterday's stones are scattered in the wind today.

Green bamboo looks deliberately demure

— the past has yet to go up in smoke.

Gazebo peeks out through lush foliage.

Pomegranates roll down the pointed roof

— old friends never meet again.

The courtyard at night is dark,

with only an axe flashing cold sparks.

The axe bears the brunt,

it has to test the depths of the courtyard.

About the poet:

Yang Yong, a poet and critic born in the 1970s, has had his works published in periodicals including Poetry Periodical, Chinese Poetry, Poetry Monthly, Stars, Mountain Flowers, Chinese‑Western Poetry, Journal of Selected Poems and Green Breeze. His poems are included in anthologies such as Literary China 2007, Literary China 2008, Poetry Life Annual Anthology (2007 Volume), 2009 Annual Anthology of Chinese Private Poetry Journals, Twenty Years of Avant‑garde Poetry — Genealogy and Collection, and Finest Poems Under Heaven: Appreciation of One Hundred New Poems. He is the author of the poetry collection Black‑and‑White Photographs and the poet‑interview book Interviews with Ten Poets.