IRON NAILS Poem by Zheng Xiaoqiong

How much love, how much pain, how many nails
Pin me to the machine table, blueprint, order form
Early morning dew, midday's blood

Must have an iron nail to pin down overtime, industrial disease
And the nameless grief follows, the time of the working class
From the factory buildings unfolds an era of fortune and misery

How many exhausted shadows flash beneath the dull lamps
How many emaciated, frail young working-class women smile numbly
Their love and memory, like moss shaded by green trees, silent and vulnerable

How many soundless nails pass through their calm flesh
Their youth flows with virtue and purity, separated from profit, back pay
Labor law, homesickness, and an unknown love

The sky-blue assembly line dangles booth seats
One painful nail at a time, a momentary stop
Outside the window, autumn passes by, someone right beside it lives