Translated by Andrew Wachtel

    He broke up the sky on the square and gave it like bread crumbs¹ to birds.

    Then he cut it in pieces and threw it to the beggars，

    the crazies， the blind， and their companions.

    But I got an end， smashed like a cup thrown to the ground，

    lying on its back like a wounded soldier，

    uncomplaining， as a harem wife

    hiding her gaze behind a black veil.

    The plains' bed is spread with houses， and everyone

    beneath it ages like a slave chained in bondage²；

    save his high-cheek-boned face.

    Tensing my voice I started to refuse my free portion.

    But I stayed mute， the sky's mouth was filled with lead.