Out of the dark the steep mountains come. At
First a line and nothing more appears on
Either side for a long time then there’s light
Inside a house, someone sleeping who woke.
I am all alone along the Yangtze
Whose sides are high, pure rock. No one lives there
But singing birds awake before the sun
Gives shape to where they sing. I see passing
Towns put here before the waters rise to
House millions of displaced inhabitants
Time will eventually cover after
All like water or the clouds covering
The mountaintops that also seem to press
Us down into the present world’s contents.
