Crone with a yellow ribbon
Giving herself to the wind
she becomes an old crone.
The yellow bird trailing after her,
bright as a young girl’s promise.
At her bidding tall grasses
collapse by the river,
an invitation to lie with her
and listen to birdsongs.
She moves the young saplings,
even cottonwoods with bark
the size of a big man’s wrist.
The oldest ones, their bark worn away
by all the weathers we know,
shine against the snow.
The dowry of pewter
she holds in her hands.
系着黄丝带的老妪
站在时间长河上，
她一点点变成了老太婆。
黄鹂鸟追随着她，
从少女时承诺。
遵从她的命令，
河边高高的草丛向她倾倒。
邀请她一起躺下，
听黄鹂鸟歌唱。
她拨开幼小的树苗，
抚摸着粗壮的枫叶杨。
最古老的那颗，
风霜剥光了她的皮肤，
在雪夜里闪闪发光。
她手里握着出嫁的头饰。
