In My Dream, There's a Beautiful Flower
A crescent moon hangs upside down, like a distant longing.
The nightfall painted with dark ink, it dampened my long hair.
The frantic struggles at my temple corner.
It resembled the old tree in front of the door, stretching its branches.
My pupils hung upside down, that crescent of silvery light.
It shone and twisted, like the bright face of a young girl.
The earth opened its thick hands, collecting the light and the shadows.
Those bizarre tree shadows argued in the wind.
They wanted to tear the tranquility into fragments.
The cold lingered on my fingertips, from the winter frost.
Yet it was intoxicated by the joy of a spring night.
Yesterday night, I dreamed of flowers.
They bloomed like midnight fairy tales.
And that cloud, it lazily resembled a moon bud in my brushstrokes.
I painted wings onto the moon bud, they were the most beautiful flowers in the sky.
Because, the March frontier had not yet a single flower.
The last snow had faded like a moon bud on white paper.
But there wasn't a tree that could sprout green 'hair'.
The sun was like an innocent child, it opened its eyes wide.
My gaze often permeated the boundless yellow sand.
The swirling sandstorms were like a thick, unyielding painting.
My iron horse was trapped in the sand desert.
It roared, but its feet were powerless to struggle.
Desolation, like an old woman, endlessly cursed.
The March frontier had no flowers.
In my dream, there was a beautiful flower.
It bloomed on a high mountain cliff.
A green prairie lay beneath it, like rolling waves.
Its head was raised high, it was gently kissing the spring 'hair'.
In my dream, there was a beautiful flower.
It bloomed by the clear lake.
The emerald lake waters rippled with layers of ripples.
It used its hands to gently lift the spring's fragile waist.
In my dream, there was a beautiful flower.
It bloomed at the deepest part of the oasis.
The gurgling spring flowed with boundless hope.
These flowers I dreamed of, they bloomed simple and unadorned.
Yet they were my most genuine expression of spring during the night.
I love these flowers, like loving the face and 'hair' of spring.
I reached out my hand, to shield those long sands.
Spring, hurry your pace, let those beautiful flowers…
bloom on the grasslands, bloom on the cliffs…
bloom in black eyes, bloom in a gentle dream!
