The Sun
Ai Qing

From the graves of the ancient past,
From the ages of darkness,
From this death stream of humanity,
Awakening mountains from their slumber,
Like a wheel of fire over the sand dunes
The sun rolls on towards me…

With invincible rays
It gives breath to life,
Making the branches of trees dance toward it,
Making the rivers rush forward with song.

When it comes I can bear
The sleeping insects turning underground,
The people talking loudly in the squares,
The cities beckoning it from the distance
With electricity and steel.

Then my breast
Is torn open by the hands of fire,
My rotten soul
Gets discarded by the river,
And I gain faith once more
In the resurgence of humanity.