Once I become quiet, I will be shackled and forced to tug with time.
I will pull hard if I’m not hungry.
I will lie shamelessly on the ground if I haven’t had dinner.
Let it pull me at will,
like a dog who looses its barking.
But the results are the same, joyful, worrisome.
Oh, the results might mean something different to others.
They are on the train to other destinations,
recite other lines in a play.
One careless slip of tongue becomes a jinx.
But you, an actor in a small town, a show host,
is trapped like a loach fish by the river Han.
Trapping is also a form of accomplishment.
A person shouldn’t absorb every breath of whole secular world,
or gaze at a city’s eyes.