Plastic Bags Poem by Wang Qian

We live in a huge plastic bag,
Little to breathe,
Less to let out.

Junk air are collected,
As well as dark eyes.
Pure tears, stray dogs were
Thrown away in this plastic bag.

A child, surprisingly,
Played with it.
Hold a plastic bag gently,
Waving up and down,
Left and right.

Was he searching for the fresh air,
Or the fresh air was searching for him?

He jumped like a happy sika,
The plastic bag is transparent,
If it is the same with the human heart?

In spring, smiles really count.
Spring is a smile,
Seeing into the secret darkness,
Very sharply.

Then you find your shadow has been stolen,
Maybe by a forest,
Delighted with green light.