Snow

Listen to the snow on earth, falling upon us

From the unknown space. Sky darkens—a line of poetry

Is half complete; the shepherd and his sheep are

Coming down from the hill, through thorns, wetland, exposed

On the Gobi. Snow is decorating the cosmos, as we

Seek our path to get back home, and the mountains are joyful.

On the open riverbanks, rocks and sheep

Move slowly. Only gods can tell

Their difference, perhaps.

Studded against the whiteout snow,

The shepherd stands like a sore black word.