Every day I walked a routine road
Back to the village where I exist.
But there are also, hidden in the forest,
Many paths, deep, unfamiliar and odd.
Walking into the unknown, the feeling of flustered and strange,
Afraid to adventure further and further, drown me in the labyrinth.
Unconsciously from the gap between the dense trees,
Suddenly I catch a glimpse of the village
Like a fairyland lays on the vanishing point
How many things around us
Demanding us for a new encounter
Do not think that everything is close.
With my dying breath, last time I stroke my body, cogitate
and wonder the question: whose body this is?
The Illness of the Stone
The illness of madness
Stone is ill piece by piece,
All become soft hearts,
Illness happens to stone,
Give birth to flower.
If stone is healthy,
There is no destiny
Chonglian Yu is a undergraduate student in Boston university, majoring in Theory & Compostion. He currently lives in Boston, but was born in China.