When you said goodbye the angry moon
sent rain to bead on the noodle shop window.
A girlfriend combed my wet hair.
The poor apprentice makes no offer
and the wind fails to brush my cheek
or ruffle my hem as a lover might do.
Leaves fall to the factory floor.
I am without work and not even
the well clothed can afford to linger
in the frost of Wuhan.
A night of nearly perfect cold
opens over Jiating pavilion,
I believe the forces who create
this winter night cannot fail
to answer my wish and fill