Chinese
dolls
move in the dream—
porcelain lips speak…
I strain to hear
but they speak in Chinese;
snowflakes hide their faces.
now each snowflake
seems to be a character
spelling out words…
again I can’t translate;
I collect the snowflakes
with a fishing net…
they do not fall through,
but pile up in a soft mound;
I carry it home.
weary beyond words,
I go to sleep,
leave flakes for tomorrow…
in the morning
I find all have melted
into a little pool—
I heat it for tea,
and having drunk it,
know all the words!
the characters spell:
tomorrow is made
from yesterday’s shadows
