Your hands
North
Holding your hands
Your hands
When you take off your gloves
They are two little lights
My shoulders
Are two old houses
They have held too much
Even the nights
Your hands
Are on them
Lighting them up
So here comes the morning after we said our farewells
In the morning light
I hold up a bowl of congee
Thinking of the distant north
There are two little lights
That can only be touched from far away
North
Holding your hands
Your hands
When you take off your gloves
They are two little lights
My shoulders
Are two old houses
They have held too much
Even the nights
Your hands
Are on them
Lighting them up
So here comes the morning after we said our farewells
In the morning light
I hold up a bowl of congee
Thinking of the distant north
There are two little lights
That can only be touched from far away
click here for more translations from the Chinese of Haizi (1964-1989) by Michael Yuze Sun
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