The Vineyard
Mang Ke

A small vineyard
Was my sweet home.

Suddenly the autumn wind broke in, rattled the gate,
Filling my garden with grapes of tears.

Over the walls that had long darkened the yard,
A few pigeons flapped in panic.

Frightened children hid their grubby faces
In a corner behind the house.

Dogs that used to laze around
Vanished to who knows where.

A clutch of red hens puffed up a dust-bath,
Clucking busily all the while.

I watched the grapes fall to the ground,
Blood flooding amid the fallen leaves.

Then the peace we sought was denied us,
And our daily sunlight.