Ping Hsin (b. 1900)
FOR THE RECORD Given to my little brother His right hand holds his slingshot, His left a clay pellet. He sits there, back against a pillar, His legs straight, watching the sky With his black eyes, Stalking the crows that come To steal the grapes from the arbor. He intends to kill, but he cannot Change his expression -- filled with affection. When I suddenly caught sight of him From the window, My eyes filled with tears. (translated by Kenneth Rexroth & Ling Chung)
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Revised: February 11, 2000